


The Soul Truth

by NathanielCardeu



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Betrayal, Child Death, Dark, F/M, Infanticide, Lemon, implied adultery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-26 19:21:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 39,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12564432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NathanielCardeu/pseuds/NathanielCardeu
Summary: Samhain. The time of year when the spirits of the dead are close to the living once more, and with the right rituals and spells it is possible to communicate with them. Sometimes dark spirits take advantage of the opportunity too.Broken by grief and loss, Hermione has been a recluse for almost two years, ever since her ex-husband Ron accused her of something terrible. This year she seeks an explanation and a chance to understand and apologise. Theo Nott is at the festival this year too, and their chance meeting sparks something unexpected and unlooked for.Needs, desires, and agendas collide, but is everything as it seems, or are there hidden secrets that will tear everything apart?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was originally started about 6 years ago, but never completed. It was dragged out of the dust filled shadows, reworked, given a completely different plotline, and finished in time for Samhain (I am exhausted, by the way...)
> 
> This fic would never have been possible without the able assistance of these lovely people who beta read, corrected and encouraged, and generally put up with my crap for the best part of a month. I couldn't have done it without you guys... literally!  
> So massive props to Shinigamioni, Imtrouble, GaeilgeRua, and CrimsonKat. Thank you ladies! x
> 
> I hope you enjoy it, as I've had a lot of fun writing it, and would love to hear your thoughts if you wish to give them :)  
> Blessed be!

The heat from the flames was incredible and Luna’s companion huddled closer to the blonde woman as they walked between the two huge fires that marked the boundary. Beyond the twin infernos lay the festival grounds and already the sound of music and laughter reached their ears, reaching to the stars in the night sky above. The person on Luna’s arm was concealed in a long, dark brown robe, the hood drawn up to hide their identity. Only bare feet occasionally peeked from under the hem as they walked.

 

The stranger was sticking close to Luna, almost like a shadow, as they passed groups of fellow revellers, all travelling inwards towards the central bonfires and the fair that gathered for Samhain.

 

Where her companion stayed silent and withdrawn, Luna was bright and cheerful, much like her manner of dress. Her blonde hair was decorated with hair clips, transfigured into bright blue and yellow butterflies that flexed their wings and made her head almost seem alive. Her dress was made of a light blue, airy material; it shifted easily in the hot breeze that flowed from the fires around them. Her legs and feet were bare and she stepped lightly, almost dancing across the grass.

 

As she walked, she called out greetings and exchanged shouts of welcome to many others. Despite several calls for her to do so, Luna never left her companion’s side, saying that she would find them later, that she would join them soon. Further into the festival the two walked.

 

All around them there were tents, stalls, dancers, walkers, chanters, singers; everyone here to celebrate the harvest and honour the dead. Long tables were laid in readiness for the feast to celebrate the first night of the festival. Men and women circled the table, setting the places for both the living and the dead. Others called out, reaching across the veil with their voices to call the ancestors to join the feast, to sit at the table and join the celebrations.

 

Gradually the pair left this area of light behind, crossing between two more large fires and into a short area of darkness. A few steps away were more tents with many people bustling about, sweeping the area clear and laying out their belongings in readiness for the feast.

 

Three children, no more than four or five years of age, ran from behind the two walkers, towards the tents laughing and calling to each other. Each was dressed in dark robes with their faces covered with masks and in their hands each held a large turnip, hollowed and carved with runes and a mildly scary face. The inside of each glowed with warm light, a small fire burning within without apparent source. Luna’s companion gave a sudden cry as the children ran amongst them; it was a low, mournful sound that spoke of intense sorrow. 

 

The smallest of the trio stopped and looked back at the robed figure, watching as they lowered slowly to their knees, their arms wrapped around their body. Luna crouched too, putting her arm around her companion’s shoulders as the sound of bitter sobbing emanated from the dark hood.

 

The young boy slowly pulled his mask up to reveal a freckled, concerned face, topped with sandy hair. His strikingly blue eyes, reflecting the light from his turnip, were filled with worry. After a moment he stepped closer, reaching into a pocket in his robe, and carefully pulling out another turnip. This one was smaller and unlit, its face carved in a reassuring smile. He placed it near to the sobbing figure and stepped back.

 

“I was gonna get dat ter me sister at de feast,” he said, his Irish accent strong as he flicked the long fringe of hair out of his eyes. “But I tink yer might need it more, lady. I can make ‘er another wan.” He addressed the robed figure but his eyes flicked to Luna several times, and she smiled as his face coloured. “You’re real pretty, Mrs Scamander. Jus’ like me da’ said yer were.” The young boy's face flushed more than ever as Luna laughed. “Blessed be,” he muttered suddenly and turned quickly, dashing away into the tents.

 

“Young Rodney Finnigan is going to grow up to be a heartbreaker, like his father,” Luna said with a smile.

 

“I can’t do this,” Luna’s companion muttered through her tears. “Luna please… let me just go home!”

 

Luna’s mouth set in a firm line, all humour lost. Her eyes held an intense sympathy however and they glistened slightly in the firelight. Carefully she reached forward and lowered the hood revealing a pale but flushed face, streaks from tears tracking down cheeks that were hollow, as if the person had recently recovered from an illness. The woman’s usually pretty eyes, brown and soft, were currently red and puffy from extended bouts of crying. Her hair bushed out now that it had been freed from the confines of the hood and spilled in tangled knots around her face and down past her shoulders. It was usually wild and untamed but seemed especially so tonight, as if it hadn’t been cared for in a number of weeks.

 

Hermione Granger looked up at her friend, silently begging for a reprieve, to be allowed to leave and return to her pit of misery where no-one bothered her. “I can’t… Luna… I just can’t do this,” she moaned, dropping her head into her hands as another sob shuddered through her body.

 

“You can, Hermione,” Luna said softly, taking her friend’s head in her hands and lifting it. Planting a firm kiss on Hermione’s forehead she whispered, “You are strong and you  _ can _ do this.”

 

“The memories are too much. It’s like I could almost hear her voice… somewhere nearby.”

 

Luna sighed and nodded. “The veil is weaker here, thanks to the rituals and the time of year. It means she is closer and you have to see that as a good thing, Hermione.”

 

“Am I doing the right thing, Luna? Will she do it?”

 

Luna heard the note of desperation in Hermione’s voice and smiled sadly. “I will petition her and the coven… but you have to be strong. You cannot falter if you do this. What she will ask of you will be necessary but you may not want to do it...”

 

“If I can see her,” Hermione interrupted, “just once more… I’ll do whatever I have to do. Anything to see my daughter again. I need to see her… to explain…”

 

Luna smiled, genuinely pleased with Hermione’s determination.

 

“Hermione!”

 

The call came from a tall, stocky man that walked towards the pair, his arms open in greeting. His hair, familiar as his Irish accent, was the colour of desert sand, hanging low across his shoulders.

 

He was different, Hermione thought and glanced at Luna. What she saw made her almost smile. Luna’s face was set in an expression that bordered on lustful! Hermione had no idea that her blonde friend had any feelings for the Irish Gryffindor, let alone sexual ones!

 

“By all de powers it’s good ter see yer again, lass!” Seamus Finnigan said as he took Hermione’s hands and pulled her to her feet. He kissed her knuckles gently and smiled warmly. “When young Rodney tol’ me yer were ‘ere I almost didn’t believe ‘im! But then he described yer gorgeous companion an I ‘ad to check fer meself. Luna!” he said, turning to embrace the blonde witch, “wonderful ter see yer too.”

 

Surprised by the emotion she heard in his voice Hermione could only stare at him for a moment. Her eyes met Luna’s over Seamus’ shoulder and she did smile then at the dreamy look that filled her friend’s face at Seamus’ hug. She wondered if she had ever told Seamus how she felt, but discarded that thought straight away. Luna wouldn’t have said anything to the Irish man because she was supposed to be a good little wife; she had married the grandson of the noted magizoologist Newton Scamander, Rolf. The young man was following in his grandfather’s footsteps, and shared her fascination for the unexplored and unknown.

 

“Come on,” Seamus said firmly, “yer gonna sit near us at the feast tonight! I insist!”

 

This last was directed at Hermione at almost the same moment she had been thinking of going home. There was a strange energy that seemed to be flowing from the well-built man, something that hadn’t been there in recent years. He was stronger again, more confident, assured. And he smiled.

 

She hadn’t seen Seamus smile in many years.

 

\---------------------------------------------------

 

“Every beginnin’ has an endin’, an every endin’ a new beginnin’.”

 

Seamus’ voice was strong despite the tears in his eyes. It carried across the table to where Hermione stood, her hand held on one side by Luna. Her other hand rested on the back of the empty chair next to her. That hand was covered by that of her best friend, Harry Potter. She felt him squeeze gently and glanced at him to see his sympathetic, encouraging smile. The scars on his face, fresh ones from a recent investigation that had finally brought a Dark Wizard down, made her wince a little. The lump in her throat throbbed painfully as she heard Seamus continue.

 

“In Life is Death, an in Death is Life. Watch over me, me loved ones, an all of me Brothers an Sisters, here an departed, who tonight are joined together again fer fellowship an celebration.”

 

Tears trickled down Seamus’ cheeks and Hermione saw his knuckles whiten on the back of the seat to his right that, like the one next to Hermione, was empty. Rodney Finnigan stood to his dad’s left, unusually solemn. The lad gave a little sniff and toyed with the back of the empty chair to his left. A new turnip lantern sat at the empty setting, made by Rodney to replace the one he had given to Hermione earlier. That one sat on Hermione’s left, at the empty place setting.

 

“Bless us all as we light our bonfires, our hearth fires, an the eternal fires in our hearts. Guide us an protect us, tonight an through the comin’ year. Merry meet, merry part.” Seamus’ voice finally cracked on his last words and he closed his eyes suddenly, seemingly unable to continue speaking for the moment. His Adam's apple bobbed several times and a tendon in his jaw flexed.

 

Hermione felt her heart ache at the pain she saw in his face, stood as he was between the places set at the feast for his wife and daughter, both cruelly taken from him several years before by a Dark Wizard; the very one that Harry and Draco had recently captured. Seamus had finally been able to find some measure of peace and this was his first Samhain since.

 

Young Rodney chose this moment to tug on his dad’s sleeve and said, in a whisper that carried the length of the table, “Da, yer gotta say, ‘Blessed be!’”

 

Hermione gave a gasp of laughter, even as tears flowed down her face. She heard several sighs of indulgence from the older witches and wizards as they smiled at the young lad. Hermione shared an amused glance with Luna who mouthed, “He is  _ so _ adorable!”

 

Seamus looked down, smiled through his tears and opened his arms to his son. Rodney leapt into them and they hugged fiercely for a moment. Turning to the congregation, Seamus and Rodney opened their arms as if to embrace everyone gathered at the table and beyond. “Blessed be!” they cried together, and everyone responded in kind.

 

\---------------------------------------------------

 

Dawn broke over the tents of the gathered witches and wizards, bathing the festival grounds in its vibrant light. The sun rose slowly, like a bulging yolk, expanding into the cerulean sky. The warmth that the golden disk promised would eventually follow the light but for the moment the night’s cold held fast.

 

Hermione wrapped her cloak more tightly about her shoulders as she slipped from her tent and dashed across the chill grass, towards the area set aside as latrines. The dew splashed wetly against her bare ankles and the biting cold penetrated her slightly fuzzy mind. She had drunk a fair amount of mead last night and was regretting it, a little, this morning.

 

Last night’s feast had been an amazing time really. Hermione had not spent any time with her friends; had, in fact, avoided them, living in a self-imposed exile. Despite her friends’ efforts she had remained isolated until Luna had finally convinced her to come to the festival, to live again. Having the chance to speak to Harry, Seamus, and Luna so frankly and openly after all this time was incredibly refreshing. And Rodney had been an amazing little caricature of his father.

 

She had sympathised with Harry over the additional scars that decorated his face, parting gifts from the Dark Wizard so recently captured. He was dismissive of them, describing them much as ‘Mad Eye’ had done: trophies of a job well done. Seamus had been effervescent over Harry, thanking him several times and declaring him the greatest wizard alive. Seamus’ compliments got more overblown as the night, and the mead, continued to flow onwards.

 

Luna chatted with Seamus and, to Hermione’s eyes at least, flirted outrageously with the Irishman. She was almost scandalised at some of the things she heard. Seamus seemed to miss the obvious undertone, though Hermione and Harry exchanged several glances and grins over it. Maybe life with her Magizoologist husband wasn't quite as exciting as Luna had hoped.

 

The evening had been a wonderful time and had awoken Hermione’s eyes to the loneliness that she had wrapped herself in these last years. She had begun to feel more alive and knew that this three day holiday would do her good after all.

 

Passing through the trees she began to hear the sound of wood being chopped and saw, in a clearing, a small group of wizards, shirts off, wielding axes and preparing logs to keep the bonfires burning. She recognised a couple of them, but her attention was drawn to a figure who stood on the treeline, watching.

 

Luna was up early, spying on the men. Well, one man in particular, Hermione noticed with a grin. Stealthily she moved up besides the blonde witch. She was watching Seamus, bare chested, muscles flexing as he swung the axe. He had certainly kept himself in shape over the years and Hermione took a moment to appreciate how well put together the Irishman was. She glanced at Luna, seeing her staring, dreamy expression.

 

“Luna.”

 

She didn't respond, didn't even seem to hear.

 

“Luna!” she said again, a little louder this time.

 

“Oh,” she said, in a far off voice, “I can't today, the Nargles took my purse.”

 

“Pardon?”

 

“Huh? What?” Luna finally looked at Hermione, seemingly coming out of a trance. “Oh, Hermione. I was just…” Her eyes drifted back to Seamus. “Just thinking… you know…”

 

Hermione kissed her friend on the cheek. “Good morning, Luna,” she laughed and continued on towards the latrine area.

 

“Uhuh… morning…”

 

Still chuckling to herself she ducked through the material that had been raised to screen the latrine area. She quickly completed her ablutions, washed her face and brushed her teeth before turning to leave. As she pushed through the screening again she gave a startled squeak as she collided with a tall figure in a brown and gold checked dressing robe. She felt her heart lurch wildly, when she saw the man’s flaming red hair.

 

_ Merlin, it’s him! _ she thought wildly, her nerves and resolve disintegrating and vanishing from her mind. She had spent two years holding a tight grip on her emotions where he was concerned and now this chance meeting had set her back!  _ Why was he here? _ she thought, furious at him for daring to be here now.

 

These thoughts sped through her mind as she fell to the floor and let out a pained squawk.

 

“Hermione!” the man said in concern, bending to offer his hand. It was then that Hermione’s sleep filled eyes resolved the image before her.

 

“Arthur!” she almost sobbed in relief, taking his hand gratefully. “I thought…” 

 

The Weasley patriarch smiled sadly and nodded as he helped the young witch stand. “I know dear, I know. Ronald is here but he’s still asleep, as is Ginny. We arrived late last night, after the feast. Molly and I are awake and George is around somewhere, probably trying to cause mischief with Lee.” He leant in towards her and took her other hand, kissing them lightly. “How are you dear? I do wish we could still talk… I miss our chats about Muggles.”

 

Hermione sniffed as tears threatened. She truly missed the elder Weasleys, including the older brothers. It was just Ron and Ginny she wanted to avoid at all costs. Smiling sadly at Arthur she squeezed his hands. “I miss you too, Arthur. You and Molly, George, Charlie, Bill… even Percy! But it’s… it just gets…”

 

“I know, dear. No need to explain. But he really does want to apologise to you… he is  _ truly _ sorry, my dear.”

 

Hermione snatched her hands back from Arthur as if burned and she saw the hurt in his eyes, even as her own flared with anger. “Apologise?”

 

“Hermione…”

 

“No! No, Arthur!” Her voice was rising as the wash of heated anger, drawn from the bottomless well that she had covered, but never drained, surged through her. She felt her body flush and her head spin, the pain in Arthur’s eyes making it so much worse. “I can never hear him apologise again. He has said it all before, but it doesn’t change what happened, what he said… when… when it happened!” Tears flowed, hot and scalding her cheeks as the terrible fury threatened to pour out of her, alongside the familiar fear and guilt. “I can’t! I just… Arthur, I just can’t speak to him… ever!”

 

His arms were around her then, pulling her close and comforting her like the father figure he had always been to her. “It’s okay, Hermione. I know, I know,” he sighed, as this girl, this  _ woman _ that he had always thought of as a daughter, clung to him and sobbed bitterly. He was a kind-hearted man, and he truly wished to do the right thing, but he didn’t know what that was.

 

His youngest son had behaved deplorably a couple of years back and it caused Arthur great pain to think of what Ron had said and done to Hermione. And as for Ginny’s response… He was getting too old for this sort of thing. Young people and their volatile relationships gave him a migraine. He looked at his relationship with Molly, his wonderful ‘Mollywobbles’, and he actually felt sorry for the younger generation. Of course he and Molly fought and argued, most married couples did plenty of that; if there were no arguments, there was no passion in the relationship, no fire.

 

But Ron and Hermione’s relationship had been destroyed in a burst of fire and vehemence that transcended all ‘normal’ arguments and in circumstances that should have seen the pair of them draw together, rather than tear each other apart.

 

Yes, Arthur thought to himself as Hermione continued to soak the shoulder of his robe with her tears, Ron had behaved terribly in blaming Hermione the way he had. How could he have thought little Rose’s death was Hermione’s fault… It had been horrible, but nothing more than a terrible accident… but for Ron to have pursued that line of thought so aggressively, and for his sister to support him? It had nearly torn the whole family apart.

 

It had led to Ron and Ginny losing all of their friends and most of their family. Only he and Molly had stayed on speaking terms with them both. Molly had been very tight lipped about the whole affair and Arthur had had several very stern conversations with his two youngest. But he was their son, and she their only daughter; they couldn’t have abandoned them no matter what had been said and done. It was like Percy all those years back: the rest of the family had turned away from him, but he and Molly had prayed for him to return to the fold and, eventually, their prayers had been answered.

 

Arthur didn’t hold out much hope of any such reconciliation for Ron and his brothers, or his friends. He had alienated a lot of people. But, as a father, Arthur had to do what he could for his son. Ginny remained very angry and bitter, but she had returned to live at the Burrow at least, where they could care for her and try to bleed away some of the poison in her heart.

 

“Hermione,” he said firmly, making his decision suddenly, “listen to me, my dear.”

 

Hermione looked up at the elder Weasley with red-rimmed eyes and nodded slightly, wiping the sleeve of her sleep robe over her eyes.

 

“You need to go through with the ritual, no matter what happens, okay?” He was speaking quietly but firmly. “Ron is here, yes, but his presence is not something you should be concerned about.”

 

Hermione started to speak, surprised at Arthur’s knowledge of her intentions. She had thought her wishes had been kept secret, known to only a few. Clearly those ‘few’ were greater in number than she had anticipated. “Luna,” she said in sudden understanding, a surge of annoyance at her friend’s indiscretion flowing through her.

 

“Yes,” Arthur said, quietly, “Luna mentioned why you are here. Molly and myself have added our voices to Luna and Harry’s and asked that Narcissa perform the ritual for you.”

 

“Harry knows!?” she squeaked, mortified.

 

“Dear, of course Harry knows,” Arthur laughed. “You can’t hide anything from that man. He is your best friend and the most talented Auror the Ministry has had since Mad Eye. He fully supports you and will be taking part too, giving his magic to the coven with the rest of us.” The red-haired man lifted Hermione’s chin with one finger, raising her eyes to his. “This is your chance to get the closure you so desperately need… and…” He sighed, suddenly looking older than his years.

 

Concerned, Hermione placed her hands on his. “What is it, Arthur?”

 

“I have a favour to ask you, my dear. But I know that you will not like it.”

 

“Ask it,” she whispered, suspicion forming in her mind and struggling not to walk away from him now but to hear him out.

 

“If you find the answers you seek… if you get the closure you need… speak to Ron. Please Hermione,” he said, imploringly, feeling her start to pull away. “Please help him to find the peace that  _ he _ lacks so that you can  _ both _ move on, completely.”

 

“I… I don’t think I can, Arthur.”

 

“I’m not asking you to reconcile with him. I know that is not possible, not after… everything. I wouldn’t expect you to do that. But finish the chapter, close the book completely, for both your sakes. He is so broken by what happened, so hurt. I know he truly regrets everything. Please, Hermione, for Molly and my sakes too…”

 

Hermione looked into his eyes for a moment before stepping, deliberately, out of the circle of his arms. For a moment she stared at him, a torrent of emotions crashing inside her.

 

Then she turned and walked away.

 

Arthur, his head bowed and feeling older than ever, listened to her footsteps as they rapidly receded.

 


	2. Chapter 2

“...and then we cut off the excess with the axe…” There were the thunks of the axe blade against the wooden block, the strong but flexible twig ends chipping away under the blade. “And there you have it! A brand new besom, good for many years, if you look after it correctly!” Molly Weasley presented the new broom to her small audience, each at their own wooden work horse, a hand axe, a long pole, and a bundle of birch twigs beside them. They applauded the older witch's skill and set about making their own, Molly circulating amongst them, guiding and praising in equal measures.

 

Hermione watched in amusement as Rodney Finnigan struggled with the bundle of sticks, the twine, and the axe, as Seamus hovered nearby, almost hopping from foot to foot. Rodney wielding the axe was clearly making him nervous! Molly intercepted the wobbling blade, firmly taking it off the young lad and helping him to wrap the branches around the pole. Seamus gave a sigh of relief and, at her nod, left his son in Molly's capable care. Hermione laughed at the sight, feeling good for a change: the sun shone brightly, the breeze was cool, and she felt much better than she had. She did, however, really need to wash up before she met Narcissa.

 

She turned to go and collided with a man walking past. “Oh Gods, I'm so sorry!” she cried, helping to steady him and the tray he was carrying. The food on it was a little disturbed, but nothing had fallen.

 

“It's fine, it's fine,” the man said with a laugh, “I need to watch where I'm going too. Never know who's going to suddenly need to get away from all the amateurs with axes!” He glanced pointedly at the small group Molly was wrangling.

 

Hermione found herself laughing with him, his voice pleasant and his laugh infectious. As he adjusted the plates she surreptitiously looked him over, not recognising him at first.

 

He was tall, about six foot, maybe a little more, slim but not skinny. His hair was dark brown and hung loosely around his eyes, which were bright and cheerful, light green in colour, and there was a light stubble on his chin and cheeks. He wore a long sleeve Muggle t-shirt, black with a rough square of sickly green in the centre. Within the square sat the image of a giant locust, glistening, its soulless eyes dripping with malice. The words “Unto The Locust” were stenciled in jagged writing beneath it in the same toxic green colour. Black jeans, worn and slightly ripped at the knees, covered his lower body and a pair of black trainers were on his feet. He looked like a Muggle and it made her stare for a bit longer than was probably polite.

 

“It's the clothes, isn't it?” he said, with a smile. “Magic folk still can't get their head around a wizard wearing a Muggle band t-shirt…”

 

“No, no, it's just… it's certainly striking...” Her cheeks coloured. “Sorry, Hermione,” she said holding out a hand.

 

“I know,” he replied with a smile, shaking it gently. “Theo. Theo Nott.”

 

“I remember the name but… I… Wow, I never would have recognised you! You look... very different!”

 

“And you look just how I always remember you,” he grinned, then stammered and coughed, “well, you know… saw you in the papers a few times… I, uh, vaguely remember you from Hogwarts, of course…”

 

Hermione blushed slightly. “I don't remember you being quite so… accepting of Muggleborns back then.”

 

He grimaced and looked embarrassed, running his free hand through his hair. “Yeah… bad times, controlling parent… Look, I was an arse back then. Sorry… I got a lot of perspective some years back. I was part of the group that got evacuated from Hogwarts and out to other families. I think my father got cold feet at the last minute about me being there...”

 

“Hey, Nott!” yelled a familiar voice from a short distance away. “You bringing that grub over here or what?”

 

The pair looked over to a nearby bonfire. Around it were set small tables and benches, many already filled with chatting magic users, breaking bread and swapping recipes. The tall blond man at one of them was waving, beckoning them over impatiently. Draco shouted again, “Come on, numb-nuts, I’m hungry!”

 

Hermione grinned and waved, seeing Harry, Seamus, and Luna at the table too. Theo leaned closer to her and, in a breathy upper class accent, said, “Observe… the magical, wild ferret in his natural habitat, ever thinking of his stomach... prone to hangriness if left without food for too long he snaps at those near him...”

 

She sniggered and glanced at Draco, his exasperated look making her laugh more.

 

“Care to join us, there’s plenty to go around,” Theo offered, “unless you’ve got somewhere you need to be, obviously…?”

 

“Oi!” Draco yelled. “Stop bloody flirting with Granger and get your arse over here with my lunch!”

 

A blush crept up Hermione’s face at that and she glanced at Theo; he had a slight grin on his face.

  
“I’m not flirting!” he shouted, before muttering out of the corner of his mouth to her, “well, not yet anyway.” He raised his voice for Draco again, indicating the witch at his side. “Is it okay if we have company?” To her he whispered, “was saving that for later,” then yelled, “Hermione looks hungry, hasn’t had lunch yet.” From the side of his mouth, “I insist. I’d really like us to talk some more.”

 

“Of course it’s alright, just get both your arses over here so I can eat!”

 

“See, not so  _ we _ can eat, so  _ I _ can eat,” Theo said with a grin. “Selfish, hangry ferret...”

 

Hermione’s face was burning from the quiet comments Theo had made; he was handsome certainly, and there was a sparkle in his eyes that spoke of mischief. His quiet assurance certainly served to warm her slightly, but this was tempered with the emotional upheaval that made up most of her waking hours. The loss of Rose and her grief, her guilt, still weighed heavily on her, Ron being here and liable to bump into her at any moment made her extremely hesitant to be found chatting with anyone new, even if she was amongst friends. Then she bristled slightly; why  _ shouldn’t  _ she talk to other people? Other men? It was just lunch, it wasn’t like a… date… or anything like that! And what if it was? She was single! She wondered if Theo was too...

 

“That would be nice, thank you,” she said quietly, not quite able to meet his eyes. She was a grown arse woman! What the hell was wrong with her that she felt like a giddy schoolgirl when he smiled at her.

 

“You’re even prettier when you’re bashful,” he said with a wink, walking towards the others. “Coming?”

 

\---------------------------------------------------

 

“This… this is beautiful,” Hermione whispered, reading the words inscribed in the little notebook of Theo’s. “Did you…?”

 

“Write it? Me?” he laughed. “No, I wish I could write poetry like this! No, this is a Muggle band's song. I just wrote down the lyrics.”

 

Hermione raised an eyebrow. “In a small notebook that, judging by its condition, you carry around with you everywhere, always? ‘No-one but me can save myself but it’s too late, now I can’t think why I should even try.’ Sounds like there’s a story to why this song is so important to you, Mr Nott.”

 

Theo blew out a breath and gazed into the fire they stood near. The others were behind them, finishing eating, still chatting. He seemed to consider his words carefully, maybe wondering how much to share. “After the war ended I was… lost, I guess. I had no home--it was taken by the Ministry for the crimes committed by my father--and I was living with Muggles because no self respecting pureblood family wanted anything to do with me. My parents were both dead; mother when I was young, and father in the Battle; my nearest relatives were too, or incarcerated. I was basically alone, amongst the people I had been brought up to hate, and unable to do the one thing that made me who I was… use magic. They confiscated my wand, and the family I lived with didn't want me using magic anyway. They knew about magic, of course, and were nervous about me and who I was, who my family was.

 

“The Ministry checked in on me from time to time, but it was little more than a cursory inspection to make sure I hadn't murdered them all and was sitting on a throne made of their corpses.” Hermione smiled sadly as Theo continued. “Crossed my mind, once or twice… thrice… heh! But eventually even those visits became owl brought questionnaires. How are you? Are you being fed? Do you often have thoughts of murdering your host family? You know, the usual.

 

“I had no contact with  _ my _ world, so I was forced to integrate into theirs. I learned to drive, used the internet--that was interesting--and actually got to know the people who were caring for me. They were nice, still are I guess though I haven't seen them in a couple of years now. Steven and Gaynor their names are. And they are just… kind and caring people. They’ve got a daughter, Elsbeth, bit younger than me, bit of a recluse, didn't like to socialise much. That suited me fine at first, but I gradually got to know her.

 

“We… well, we fooled around a bit, eventually, but kept it secret from her folks. We were supposed to be related as far as the outside world was concerned, so wouldn't do to be seen making out, you know?

 

“She was pissed off at everything, just a really angry young woman, and she listened to some of the most awful music you can imagine: loud, abrasive, obnoxious stuff that just drilled through your skull. Said it helped her deal with how she was feeling, that she could put it on and let it all drain away. I didn't understand that at first, until she let me have one of her old players and a few CDs.”

 

Theo grinned and offered the mead bottle to Hermione for a swig before continuing. “I listened to everything, took it all in: the screaming vocals, the melancholic music, the aggressive lyrics… it spoke to me. It sounds a bit silly saying it out loud,” he said, looking a bit sheepish.

 

She shook her head, sitting on the grass and patting the area next to her. “Not at all. I completely understand, though my personal refuge was the library,” she said with a small laugh. “Polar opposites, in fact. Silence and words, and the comforting smell of the bindings. It was soothing.”

 

“Didn't matter the time of day, whenever I had to go to the library I always saw you in there, either reading or digging through the stacks.”

 

“It was my sanctuary against the madness.”

 

“Exactly,” said Theo. “Away from the wizarding world I didn't have a sanctuary, even started to forget I was a wizard at times. Elsbeth went to a muggle university halfway across the country, met a boy, broke my heart… you know, the same old story,” he laughed, but she could see the old pain in his eyes. “It hurt at the time, and I think I lost a little bit more of who I was, drifting further away from… me.”

 

“'Drifting further everyday’?” she asked, with a small smile.

 

He gave a laugh. “Yeah, exactly! That's when I heard  _ that _ ... those lyrics,” he said, tapping the book Hermione held. “It… it filled a void in my soul… Sounds ridiculous, I know, but that's how it felt. I don't mind admitting that I cried, just a little bit.”

 

“I like to collect rare books and I once found a first edition copy of 'Hogwarts: A History’ in a small shop in Chester that was closing down. I got a similar feeling that day.”

 

“'Hogwarts: A History’?” Theo said with a smirk, an eyebrow raised.

 

She casually swatted his arm. “Don't judge! More people should read it. Came in very handy when we were there, I'll have you know. Anyway, I found it and was just so happy. It was like I had been…”

 

“Completed,” they said together. They looked at each other for a long moment before Hermione glanced away, her cheeks heating.

 

“I don’t think I've ever had that reaction to music before. Books, written words, they tend to touch me deeper.”

 

“Maybe you just haven't found the right song yet?”

 

“Maybe. I've not been in the mood for music for…” She sighed and swallowed the lump in her throat. “A long time.”

 

“Yeah, I heard… I'm really sorry, Hermione. It must be awful.” He reached out and held her hand gently. She smiled at him, liking the feel of his touch, taking comfort in the contact. Theo reached into a pocket of his jeans and pulled out a small device, a set of headphones wrapped around it. “I might have a song for you here.”

 

She put one of the earbuds in place as Theo flicked quickly through the list of songs on the device, the witch’s eyes opening wider at the amount of music held on the small device. After a moment he turned the screen towards her and she read the display. “'Darkness Within’? Sounds… ominous.”

 

He laughed and indicated for her to lay back and close her eyes. Feeling slightly nervous she complied, her heart skipping a little at his gentle touch as he placed the other earbud in place. For a moment she only heard the sounds of the others nearby and the bustle of magical folk conducting business and enjoying the festival.

 

“This song,” Theo said quietly, “spoke to me too. It sums up the part music played in keeping me sane. I think it will speak to you too.”

 

“It's not some of that obnoxious screeching that will blow my eardrums up, is it.”

 

“Shush,” he said with a laugh. “I wouldn't be rough with you first time out.”

 

The words sank into Hermione's mind and conjured different images than Theo had, possibly, intended. She opened one eye and saw him looking at her with such intensity that her core heated immediately. Maybe there had been a double meaning there. An almost uncontrollable urge to grab his collar and drag his lips to hers flooded her body and she quickly closed her eyes again.

 

Those thoughts were driven from her mind then: a clean and beautiful note rang out on an acoustic guitar, a melody building and dancing, before a man began to sing. His voice was deep and rough, a voice more used to angry shouting, but here it was soulful, mournful.

 

_ ‘Here in the darkness that I lay _ __   
_ Depression heavy in its weigh _ __   
_ And how my body aches to leave _ _   
_ __ To sing its final eulogy’

 

As the song progressed, as the man sang about how music was the guiding force of his life, how it had saved him, he acknowledged the damage it had done to his life as well. The pain in his voice pulled at her soul, dredging up memories of Rose, her love, her loss.

 

_ We build cathedrals to our pain _ __   
_ Establish monuments to attain _ __   
_ Freedom from all of the scars and the sins _ _   
_ __ Lest we drown in the darkness within

 

Her throat ached and she felt tears trickle down her cheeks. The words, the music--a single guitar played with soul and feeling--dragged her heart out of the pit where she had stored it, let her see that her loss could not be allowed to define her, that she had a duty to carry on, to rebuild, to live. She ignored the part of herself that told her she didn't deserve to continue, that the darkness should consume her completely for what she had done. She couldn't ignore it forever, but for the moment she allowed herself to feel truly alive and free again.

 

\---------------------------------------------------

 

The pair had been laying on the grass near the fire for a couple of hours, listening to music and talking about the past. Harry, Seamus, and Draco were playing cards at the table and passing around bottles of mead, laughing and joking with each other. Luna had wandered off to join in with the dancing and to chat with some of her Ravenclaw friends that she had seen.

 

Theo was a revelation to Hermione; he was kind hearted but had a dark sense of humour that she liked, he was intelligent and witty and they talked and talked, the conversation never faltering. He had been through isolation and heartache with the loss of his identity and his family, but had found something to cling onto and heal himself. She couldn’t truly appreciate some of the more aggressive music he showed her, but there was almost always something in the song that she enjoyed. It gave her hope that what she was doing would help to do the same for her. When Lucius Malfoy had finally been released from Azkaban for his part in the Battle of Hogwarts he had found Theo in the Muggle world, brought him home again and given him a purpose once more.

 

“So what is it that you do for the Malfoy's, when you're not wooing random young women at harvest festivals with your music with indecipherable lyrics and tales of your tortured past, Theo?” Hermione asked with a grin.

 

“I’m a contractor really,” Theo replied. “I solve… problems for them. Make them go away, you know?”

 

Hermione frowned and looked over at him. “What sort of problems? And what do you mean, ’make them go away’?”

 

Hearing the hesitation in her voice he looked at her, seeing the concern in her eyes. Hastily he laughed and said, “Oh, not like  _ that _ ! Gods, no, nothing sinister in it at all! I’m sort of their Legal Eagle; I deal with legal wrangles they may encounter, find mutually beneficial solutions--or at least ones that will benefit the Malfoy’s and their interests more--and get things resolved.”

 

“Sounds…” She paused, not sure how she felt about this.

 

“Vicious? Cutthroat? Like I’m a dangerous bad boy that will fulfill your wildest fantasies, then ride into the sunset on a powerful motorbike, leaving you broken hearted, but longing for my return?”

 

Hermione’s explosive guffaw was so loud that the others looked around to see what was going on. They grinned at Theo’s mock offended face, and the young woman doubled up on the ground snorting and wiping her eyes, before turning back to their game.

 

“Hey!” Theo said with a laugh as the witch at his side shook with quiet giggles. “You’re not supposed to find that funny! It’s a real possibility with a loose cannon like me!”

 

“I’m sure it is,” she cackled, not believing a word of it.

 

“Alright, so I don’t have a motorbike, so that’s not necessarily something you need to worry about. How do you feel about the ‘wildest fantasies’ part?”

 

His voice was casual and she looked over at him, her heart now thudding for a different reason. She wasn’t sure when they had gotten closer, but the gap that had been between them was now gone, their shoulders touching. A small frown marred his otherwise smooth complexion, his green eyes locked onto her brown ones, intense in the firelight. Her gaze dropped briefly to his smile before snapping back to his eyes, her mouth dry. Her chin lifted slightly, invitingly, her breath seemingly caught in her chest, as their faces drifted closer.

 

There was a noise, starting low and getting louder, a repetitive chant as well as the soft sound of someone tapping on wood. “Kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss…”

 

Hermione glared at the table and saw it was Seamus chanting and gently slapping the surface of the table, Harry and Draco joining in now with leers on their faces. Seeing the moment had passed Seamus threw up his hands. “Awww! So close!”

 

“She was leaning in!” Draco declared, as Theo slumped back, shaking his head with a wry grin. “There was definite leanage going on there!”

 

“Could’ve been an epic smooch! It's been building for ages!” said Harry as Hermione, blushing furiously, stood and strode towards him. “No, don’t hurt me! Seamus started it! Ow! No punching!” he laughed, as Hermione hit him on the shoulder repeatedly.

 

“You’re all horrible!” she declared with a sniff, dropping down onto the seat with her nose in the air.

 

As Seamus and Draco ribbed Theo, Harry looked over at Hermione, concern in his eyes. “Seriously though, are you okay?” he asked quietly.

 

She smiled, reaching out and placing her hand over his. “I think so. Just a bit… nervous.”

 

“About tonight, or…” He nodded his head subtly in Theo’s direction.

 

She sighed and shrugged. “Bit of both. He seems really nice, though.”

 

Harry nodded. “I’ll have a chat with him.”

 

“Harry, no, you don’t…”

 

“Come on, Missy, Cissy awaits!” sang Luna, suddenly reappearing at her side. “Time for us to go!” Without waiting she began dragging the brunette to her feet.

 

“Easy, Luna! I’m coming, I’m coming! Bye guys!” She gave a small wave to Theo who raised a hand in return and smiled.

 

“See you boys later!” Luna linked her arm with Hermione’s as they skipped away--Luna skipped that is, Hermione was just struggling to keep up. “Bye, Seamus!” the blonde witch sang and the other men all cheered that, Seamus grinning and blushing slightly.

 

“You need to watch that one, Finnigan,” said Draco with a grin, pointing after the two witches. “She’s after you, big time! Ten Galleons says she invites you to Hermione's ritual tonight!”

 

“Luna’s a married woman, ya fool! There ain’t nothin’ more with yer one than a bit’a harmless flirtin’!”

 

Harry hissed his breath in. “I dunno, Seamus, mate. She goes pretty doe-eyed around you… married or not… She doesn't even seem as… flighty as she normally is, when she's looking at you.”

 

“I would!” said Draco, as Theo joined them at the table.

 

“I think most of us would, ferret,” declared Harry with a laugh, “but you’re just as married as she is. And no, two wrongs don’t make a right.”

 

“They  _ can _ make a night ter remember though!” said Seamus thoughtfully, taking a swig of the mead. “Alright, my deal. Theo, now yer bereft o’ woman, yer in?” At his nod Seamus dealt out the cards to the four of them, the bottle passing freely around. There were several empties on the grass around the table and everyone present was more than a little drunk.

 

“Theo,” said Harry, sternly, “usual options, make your choice!”

 

“Oh god,” moaned Draco, his head dropping to his arms. “Must we? This game is so wrong…”

 

Theo looked confused for a moment until Harry said, “Okay, Hagrid, Slughorn, Dumbledore! Fuck, Marry, Kill?”

 

All three men made sounds of disgust, Seamus going so far as to gag. “You are a sick puppy, Potter!” said Draco, throwing his cards down as Harry laughed.

 

“Okay, gross,” muttered Theo, “but... kill Slughorn; odious man, never liked him much, and I’m sure he wouldn’t be missed. Fuck Dumbledore; pretty sure he’d be up for that and becoming the fuckboy of such a powerful wizard would open a lot of opportunities. Marry Hagrid.”

 

“Wow…” Seamus breathed, looking bewildered.

 

“Hey, Hagrid’s a lovable guy, he’d defend you and your honour no matter what, even if you were also banging Dumbledore on the side. Plus you’d never want for unusual creatures to learn about, and he probably gives very warm hugs!”

 

“You put waaay too much detail in that,” said Draco, shaking his head. “Anyway, didn’t you say two of those had already shacked up, Potter?”

 

“Nope,” Harry declared, his finger pointing unsteadily at the blond wizard, starting to get a little bleary eyed from the mead, “I said that I left the pair of them in Hagrid’s hut in my sixth year after getting that memory out of Slughorn. They were drunk, they were singing, they were  _ very _ friendly with each other…I left alone… what happened afterwards...” Harry held his hands out in a dismissive gesture as the others started to laugh. “That’s all I’m saying!”

 

“The Prophet would’a 'ad a field day wi’ dat!” crowed Seamus. Harry’s head was on the table, his shoulders shaking with mirth and Theo let out a bark of laughter. Even Draco was starting to snigger. “They’d’a called ‘em ‘Slugrid’!” Seamus cried, wiping tears from his eyes.

 

“Haghorn!” declared Draco with an explosive laugh and Seamus fell backwards holding his sides.

 

The sound of the group’s raucous laughter drew several looks from nearby witches and wizards, some of whom tutted good naturedly.

 

One looked on with anything but good nature. They had watched the group for several hours, hidden from sight, bright brown eyes filled with first annoyance, then anger as the scene with Hermione and Theo had unfolded. They glared at Harry with venom after the ladies had left, and the men’s laughter drove them almost incandescent with rage. With a growl they turned and stalked away.


	3. Chapter 3

“Piercing the veil will be a simple matter of focus, and timing,” the older witch said, reclining on the soft cushions in her opulent tent. Her husband sat cross legged nearby, a cup and saucer held in one hand. The aroma of the herbal tea and burning incense drifted through the tent and the sense of magic and heat filled the confines, swirling around Hermione’s head. “Once the ritual is complete you will reach out with your magic and tear a small hole in the thin tissue that divides us from the spirit world.”

 

“It sounds so simple,” Hermione said with a nervous smile.

 

Narcissa nodded. “It can be, as long as the ritual is completed correctly of course. We will need at least one more pair to complete the circle, the magic being much stronger with nine. I will lead the circle, taking in the power from those present. At completion I will pass that control to you.”

 

Hermione glanced at Luna, who was smiling dreamily at the roof of the tent where some butterflies she had conjured fluttered. “What… uh… what will you need me to do.” She swallowed nervously as Lucius smirked.

 

\---------------------------------------------------

 

“Hermione wait! Slow down!” Luna ran after her friend who was walking rapidly away. “It’s not that bad, really!”

 

“Not that bad?” Hermione almost squealed, coming to an abrupt halt. “Not that bad!? Luna, I have to… and people-- _ people I know _ \--will be… and then... “ She couldn’t speak properly, her hands flailing in exasperation, unable to wrap her mind around what was expected of her. She was no shrinking violet by any stretch, but the thought of this made her distinctly uncomfortable. She had only ever been intimate with one man. To be in the middle of this circle...

 

Luna placed a hand on her hip and looked at her, one eyebrow raised. “Really? Have you become a blushing virgin again in the last few years?”

 

“Of course not! It’s just… Oh, I don’t know! It’s... weird!”

 

“It’s natural, Hermione, it’s spiritual.” She gave a twirl, fluttering her hands above her head. “It will call everyone’s magic together and then Narcissa will pass that magic to you.” She stopped abruptly and shrugged. “Voyeurism isn’t  _ that _ bad!”

 

“It’s not just  _ that _ … I’ve never… I mean, I've never kissed another… another…”

 

Luna threw up her hands in exasperation. “Oh Gods, you’re being such a prude!” Closing the distance between them she grabbed the back of Hermione’s head and pressed their lips together. Caught by surprise the brunette’s mouth was half open, and Luna’s tongue flicked forward to caress Hermione’s. A surprised squeak escaped her and a tingle chased its way through her body. She felt oddly disappointed when Luna sealed the kiss and pulled away. “See, nothing to it,” she declared, but her voice was a little breathless, rosy spots appearing high on her pale cheekbones.

 

In contrast, Hermione’s face was burning crimson, and she looked everywhere but at her friend. Which was why she was the first to see Seamus, stood off to one side, jaw practically on the floor at what he had just seen. Annoyed, she strode over to him and pushed his mouth closed, before stalking off into the gathering dusk.

 

Luna smiled, a slightly predatory look in her eyes, and skipped over to the stunned Gryffindor.

 

\---------------------------------------------------

 

“Care to look into the mists of the future and see what the fates have in store for you, dear girl?”

 

The voice caught Hermione’s attention and she looked up, becoming aware of her surroundings at last. She had simply walked after Luna had kissed her, not paying attention to her destination. The speaker was familiar, a thin woman with a light and ethereal voice, her eyes massive behind thick glasses, and her neck and fingers decorated with all sorts of jewellery, necklaces, and talismans.

 

“Hello, Professor Trelawney,” Hermione said with a smile, “It’s me, Hermione.”

 

“Oh, Hermione dear,” the former Divination professor said, embracing the witch briefly. “How are you, child?”

 

_ Well, I’m nearly 30, and haven’t been a child for a long time _ , she thought with a small spike of annoyance. “I’m doing okay, thank you. How… uh… how are the fates… doing?” Hermione’s knowledge and respect for the mystical art of Divination was minimal; it was one of the few subjects at Hogwarts she had actually abandoned.

 

“They are in flux, my dear,” Sybill said, huge eyes opened wide and filled with trepidation. “Spirits move that bear ill will to some!"

 

“Well… I’m sure that a couple of protection rituals will clear that up in no time...”

 

“It is not that simple, child,” Trelawny intoned, clutching Hermione’s hand, missing the annoyed huff. “Dark forces are abroad here! Evil walks amongst us!”

 

Hermione felt a twist of fear until she remembered that Trelawney hadn’t seemed to be satisfied, in the few Divination classes she had attended, unless someone was in grave peril or doomed; Harry was supposed to have died at least six times by her reckoning. In fact, apart from the very occasional moment of true prophetic insight, most of her ‘predictions’ were nonsense or guesswork. Hermione had little time for either, and besides she was supposed to go to the river and bathe in order to cleanse herself for tonight’s ritual.

 

Some of her disbelief must have shown in her face as the former Professor scowled, her voice snippy. “The spirit world is not something to be mocked, dear! You especially need to be keeping your head clear of negative thoughts if you hope that tonight’s ritual will help you!”

 

“Does everybody bloody know about it!” Hermione cried in exasperation. “It was supposed to be  _ personal _ !”

 

“I was consulted by Lady Malfoy on some particulars of the ritual; being the great-great-granddaughter of the All-Seeing Cassandra Trelawney, my knowledge is unparalleled in the field of divination and prediction. I was honoured to assist such a powerful lady in leading this ritual, and I hope that the spirits see fit to help you, my dear.” Her voice had softened slightly, but there was still a slight undertone to her clipped words.

 

“Sorry Professor… it’s just… it’s hard for me… I’ve been shut away for a long time, and I’m finding that lots of people know about something that is intensely personal.”

 

“I know, child.” Hermione tutted at this but Trelawney merely smiled and continued, “Know that there are those that love you, no matter what, and that you will find the answers you seek. Though I fear they may not be pleasant for you… there are still the angry spirits that hang about us…”

 

“Hermione!”

 

Hearing the call Hermione’s heart fell through the floor, her worst fear striding up the gentle slope, his flaming red hair a beacon in the last light of the day. His face, once pleasant and friendly to her eyes, now filled her with dread, anger, guilt… Her stomach joined her heart at the look of hope in his eyes and her adrenaline spiked, ready to flee.

 

Trelawney reached out and clutched Hermione’s arm with a bony grip. She pulled her to the side, an angry look on her face and, with minimal effort, pushed the surprised witch into the tent nearby. She had a moment to steady herself in the gloomy interior when Sybill’s head popped through the opening. “Stay here until I call for you, child! There is no cause for you to fret, the spirits will protect you.“

 

With that the former Professor was gone and the witch heard her thin voice call out in anger. “Mr Weasley, there is a reason that you have not yet spoken to Miss Granger, and it will not be violated if I can help it!”

 

Hermione heard Ron, reasoning and pleading, desperate to speak to her, just for a moment. The thought of him talking to her filled her with anger and she quickly regulated her breathing, deep and even. Narcissa had insisted that she be calm and at peace before the ritual and she desperately tried to reach that state of mind, logically trying to examine why she didn’t want to talk to Ron, attempting calm and rationality rather than an emotional response.

 

Rose had died on her watch and he had accused her of causing that death. Despite the Healer’s words, that there was no evidence of foul play, that it had been a tragic accident and nothing more, Ron had continued on that thought path. He had driven away his friends, alienated his family, and almost forced her into hiding and isolation to avoid him. Every time his name was mentioned she was reminded of the night that Rose died and her mind shied away, desperate to avoid it and the guilt and sorrow that swamped her heart. Just thinking about Ron did that, talking to him face to face would be so much worse.

 

She backed away from the entrance, just in case he burst in, and sat down with a surprised squeak as a chair hit the back of her knees. She looked around the tent, seeing the strange paraphernalia that no doubt had special purpose in the art of Divination--the crystal ball, candles, mirrors, rune stones, cards--all items were spread out in different areas, so that visitors could easily find the particular method they wished to use. The scent of incense filled the air, cloying and acrid, and several candles were burning, providing a low light.There was a small table at her side, a fresh apple and a sharp paring knife on it, as well as a small piece of card covered in neatly printed handwriting. The title caught her attention: “The Apple and The Mirror”

 

She picked up the card, finding the simple act of reading soothing and she was able to block out the faint sounds of Ron’s voice arguing with Sybill. Her mouth twisted with amusement at the claims of the ritual. “See my true love indeed… ridiculous…”

 

She sat there for a few minutes. Gradually she began to feel like she truly was alone here, the noise beyond the tent was little more than a muted buzz. She glanced at the apple and the knife, the card. She looked behind her and saw the large full length mirror standing nearby, a table and unlit candle in front of it, ready for this ritual. With an amused huff she clicked her fingers, sending out a spark of magic that lit the candle.  _ At least I’ll get to eat something while I’m waiting _ . She plucked the apple and knife from the table, swiftly cut it into nine pieces, and took the first bit into her mouth from the point of the knife. The apple was sweet and delicious and she continued to devour it, piece by piece, delicately skewering them on the knifepoint before popping them in to eat. When she reached the last piece she looked at it for a moment, feeling a slight tremor of reluctance; she could  _ feel _ the mirror, standing silently behind her, waiting. She glared at the last piece of the apple, then deliberately threw it over her right shoulder, turning to look over her left.

 

The mirror stood in the gloom, empty of everything but the flickering light of the candle and image of her, shrouded in the shadows. There was nothing else there and the act of staring, searching for something, began to make her vision blur. She was unable to look away from the darkened glass, a sense of dread rolling off of it: something moved within the shadows.  _ It’s simply Professor Trelawney coming into the tent, _ she thought to herself, her heart thumping.

 

The shadowed figure in the mirror--for figure it was--moved jerkily, flickering almost, a knife loosely held in one sickly pale hand. Dark, matted, and dirty hair topped its head, face gaunt and skull-like with heavy lidded eyes.

 

Her heart was pounding in her throat now, the shadow’s presence filling her with terror, but still she could not look away!

 

There was a hissing sound in the air; laughter, low and filled with malice. The figure stepped closer, now seemingly directly behind her and Hermione could feel it, knew that if she looked… The apparition leaned closer, mouth next to Hermione's ear, its whisper harsh and sibilant. “Hello, mummy…”

 

A sudden flash of silver light burst in the mirror and there was a crack, loud in the confines of the tent. The witch gave a startled scream and spun around.

 

The tent was empty.

 

Standing in a rush Hermione knocked the chair over, the back crashing into the table behind and spilling the candle to the floor. Hurriedly she grabbed and extinguished it before it set fire to anything. Her eyes were drawn to the mirror; there was a shattered impact mark in the centre, no more than a few inches across.

 

“Hiding won't help you, murderer!”

 

She gave another scream and spun to see Ginny standing in the entrance to the tent. “Ginny, gods you scared me!”

 

The redhead came closer, anger in every line of her. “I have no idea why my brother is so determined to apologise to you. You killed his daughter and then denied it! You're sick and twisted as far as I'm concerned and I hope this ritual tonight fails and your murdering soul torn from your body to be fed on by negative spirits!”

 

Hermione was staggered by the vehemence in the young woman's voice. She had known that Ginny hated her, had sided with Ron about Rose's death, but hadn't heard the pure hate that rested in her heart until now. “Ginny! I…”

 

“Don't try to deny it again, you lying bitch!” The furious woman jabbed a finger in Hermione's face. “ _ You _ killed my niece! No-one believed Ron when he tried to show them the truth and you denied it again and again, but  _ I _ know it's true. Some women would kill to  _ have _ a child, some women would give everything they had to have life grow within them, but for whatever reason they just can't do it. And  _ you _ !?” Ginny slapped Hermione hard, the startled witch falling to the floor, a hand to her stinging face. “ _ You _ get that chance!  _ You _ bring life into the world and then fucking murder her because you're not strong enough to be a mother! You tore my family apart! You drove Harry away from me!”

 

“Harry left you because you wouldn’t drop your vendetta against me!” Hermione yelled, leaping to her feet, pushing Ginny away. “How dare you try to lay that on me as well? If you hadn’t been such an angry, bitter little girl, using  _ my _ tragedy--mine and Ron’s--as some sort of flail, you would still have him! He told you repeatedly that it wasn’t a problem for him, that he would look to adopt if you wanted to; he already wanted to adopt Teddy, for God’s sake!”

 

“It wouldn’t have been the same! It should have been  _ me _ , Hermione! I wanted to bear children so much that it hurt, and I couldn't do it! How is that fair, when I'm the one that wanted to be a mother and you just throw it all away!?”

 

“That’s your problem, Gin, isn’t it? You  _ never _ had enough, always wanting more and more, taking what you can get and then fucking off when you’d had your fill! Lavender? Parvati and Padma? Your own brother, George! Me? God’s sake, Ginny, you took our help, friendship,  _ money _ ? You didn't even necessarily want Harry's children, you said to Lavender you just wanted kids of your own. Time, and time, and time again; you gave  _ nothing _ back, just expected more, walking away when you were done! You’re just a… a goddamn fucking LOCUST!!”

 

A man burst into the tent, his strong arms grabbing Ginny, just as she let out a howl of rage and threw herself at the brunette again. The redhead kicked and screamed, fighting against Theo’s grip as he dragged her backwards and spun her away, standing between the two witches. “HEY! ENOUGH! You need to back off, Weasley!”

 

“Oh, and what’s it to you, Nott? Nothing more than Malfoy’s little bulldog aren’t you? Running around, doing his bidding! What? He’s got you looking after the child killer now? Is that it?”

 

“Just get out, Weasley, you’re embarrassing yourself here! Hermione’s done nothing to you that you didn’t bring on yourself!”

 

“What the fuck do you know about it?” she spat. “Rumours and lies from Granger, no doubt!”

 

“Just get the hell out, before I  _ throw _ you out!” Theo took a step towards her, but Hermione grabbed his arm, holding him back, scared of the look in Ginny’s eyes.

 

The younger woman saw the touch, the concern in Hermione’s stance, and sneered in disgust. “You oughta watch yourself, Nott, she’s nothing but a lying child murderer. Probably try to choke you to death while fucking your brains out and make you think it was your own fault!”

 

“OUT!!” he roared, and Ginny gave one last smirk before flinging the tent flap aside and striding out.

 

Hermione sank to the floor, shaking, adrenaline surging through her, tears flooding her eyes. Theo dropped beside her and wrapped her in a hug. She lowered her head onto his shoulder and sobbed, whilst he made soothing noises, stroking her hair gently.

 

They stayed that way while Hermione cried. She had never said those things to Ginny before--had believed them in her heart, but never would have said them out loud. Ginny had been like a sister to her, but slowly her selfish behaviour had poisoned people and driven them away. Instead of seeing the damage she was doing the young woman had only become worse, making things almost impossible for Harry to maintain a sensible relationship with her  _ and _ be an Auror at the same time. They found out that she was unable to bear children not long before Rose’s death and it had been the final straw. Ron’s assertion that it had been Hermione’s fault had sent the young redhead over the edge and into a spiral of hate and spite that drove everyone away from her.

 

“Are you okay,” Theo asked, tilting her head up with a gentle hand, examining the angry red mark on her cheek.

 

She nodded, feeling the shakes lessen. His touch was warm and she placed a hand over his. “Thank you, Theo.”

 

“Hey, I'm not one to step into a fight that's not mine normally. I knew you could have taken her, she's shorter than you for a start. I just saw a chance to act like a hero. Those sort of opportunities don't come around very often! Besides, she probably fights dirty.”

 

Hermione chuckled. “Is this going to become a thing for you? Saving me from enemies that threaten to scratch my eyes out?”

 

“Not sure,” he said thoughtfully, “how often is it likely to happen?”

 

“Occasionally. But you might need to stay close. Tends to be days or weeks in between incidents.” She looked into his eyes, seeing them sparkle in the low candlelight, amusement and something warmer in them. Her heart gave a little jump as his mouth quirked in a smile. She wanted to kiss that smile so much it was almost painful.

 

“I think I could handle that if there's more hero work,” he said quietly. “What else would you need? I'm a pretty good cook when I put my mind to it.”

 

She could feel his breath on her cheek, the slight scent of mead on it. Their faces were close together now, all it would take was a little lean.

 

“Sounds good, Theo… consider yourself hired.” She rested a hand on his shoulder, gently pulling him towards her. “I've got a job for you now though… care to save a girl from a terrible lack of affection?”

 

“I thought you'd never ask,” he whispered.

 

The crackling energy flowed around them, almost arcing over the tiny gap that lay between their mouths, and she let out a small sigh, feeling him move closer still. Their lips brushed, softly, and she let out a tiny whimper of need and anticipation.

 

“Come on, Hermione, you need to wash up and… oh!” Luna bounded into the tent and pulled up short. “Oh!” she said with a wide smile, as the pair groaned in frustration. “Oh, don't mind me… carry on!” She waved her hands at them and turned around, hands clasped behind her back, rocking on her heels, humming.

 

“It's fine, Luna,” Hermione grumbled, “I think the moment has passed.” She looked into Theo’s eyes, seeing the thwarted frustration in them. “Maybe next time…” she whispered.

 

“‘Third time’s a charm’, they reckon,” he said quietly, standing and helping her up.

 

“Well then I guess we'll see if you can charm the pants off me later,” she said coyly. Then her eyes widened as Theo's eyebrows raised and Luna sniggered. “Oh Gods, no! That sounded so wrong! I didn't mean that…” Her face flared even redder at his crooked smile. She cleared her throat, feeling her skin prickle with embarrassment. “I'm going to go now…” she muttered and walked away, grabbing Luna by the arm and dragging the giggling witch behind her.

 

As soon as the tent was clear Theo gave a sigh and grimaced. “This sucks,” he muttered, “this fucking sucks! It wasn't supposed to be like this!” He leant on the table and glared at himself in the mirror. “Now what, super genius?” His reflection just scowled back at him in judgement.

 

\---------------------------------------------------

 

“In your daily struggle… are you dead or alive?” she asked to Hermione’s bowed head. Hermione could barely breathe, already feeling the power rising from the ground and emanating from the woman in front of her. The trees outside swayed in a sudden breeze, their leaves sighing in the darkness.

 

“We survive because we are free,” she continued, “and you must shake free of your grief! Hold onto your belief in the everlasting cycle of life. Sorrow cannot enslave you forever.”

 

Turning slowly she caught the eyes of each of those stood around the circle. “Change comes! But no change is permanent. By its nature change cannot be so. Our strength is bright and enduring, incandescent in its power. You must take your chances while you still stand, your back to the wall.”

 

“This is now your chance,” she said as she turned back to Hermione, her arms outstretched. At her gesture the watchers began to chant quietly under their breath. Hermione could not identify the words though they resonated through her body, thrummed along her nerves and pulsed inside her soul. Something about Narcissa’s words spoke to her, pulled at her memory, made her think of Theo for some reason.

 

“The sun will rise! Dawn will break through even the blackest of nights, love burning warm in its glow,” the priestess intoned, the candles set behind her to each side of the fire seemed to flare in time with her words.

 

Each person around the circle spoke then, clearly, “Fear shall pass. Be still and know!”

 

In the silence that followed their words, there was a pulse of energy that swept through the circle, causing Hermione to gasp. She tried to hold onto her mind, to work out why she thought of light green eyes and music when she heard those words, but she felt such a trembling power vibrating in the air that it shook the thoughts from her. The light of the fires set at the four corners hurt her eyes, sensitive as they were after her time, hooded and cloaked on the journey up here, to this quiet cave.

 

“Heartache,” the priestess called and each person around the circle felt it in their soul, a pain as if an icicle had pierced them. “We search for a way to connect, to hold this off. Pretend that we are content with what we have because we are scared to look beyond. We are in this together. Know that there is love here, that we will weather the storm, as one.

 

“Look into each other’s eyes, now whilst the power rises and the spirits are amongst us. Make the connection before it fades!” the priestess called and Hermione shivered as she felt a powerful presence behind her. Gentle hands took hold of the edges of her robe and pulled it open, exposing her naked body to the warm air.

 

Instantly her flesh pebbled and her nipples tightened. As her heart fluttered and her cheeks burned with embarrassment, she saw the man walk around her to join the priestess. His long, blond hair was tied in a tail and his naked form rippled with firm muscle; Lucius Malfoy had not gone soft in his older years. He gently took his wife's hand and guided her to the northern point of the circle. Here they embraced, giving themselves over to the love and the magic that formed their life. The other three couples were moving too. They sank, in their pairs, to the soft warm floor of the cave. Their robes had already been shed; naked flesh, soft and yielding to each other’s touch.

 

Hermione could hear their moans of pleasure in her bones, see their ecstasy through her skin. The breeze stirred the air around her and she heard a light, warm rain begin to fall outside. She could feel the power flowing freely through the circle as the others began to build their partners towards a crescendo. Despite her reservations she began to feel more relaxed, able to look around without her earlier embarrassment. She saw Harry with a witch she did not recognise, saw Molly and Arthur, before the sense of power began to overwhelm her senses. Just before her eyes fluttered closed she looked over her shoulder and smiled; Luna was riding her Irish lion. How she was going to deal with her husband after this Hermione didn't know, but the look of ecstasy on the blonde witch's face was so intense and all consuming that Hermione felt her own body responding to it.

 

She hadn’t felt sexual desire in a long time, had not allowed herself to experience pleasure, to touch herself and feel the relief of erotic release. It had been two long years and more since she had truly felt that. She believed that, if it hadn't been for meeting and talking with Theo earlier--feeling his arms around her, comforting her, those almost-kisses--this whole experience, this ritual, would have been wasted; there was no way she could have been in the right frame of mind without his words, his touch, and his face in her thoughts. It seemed a strange coincidence that Narcissa’s words had brought the handsome man to mind...

 

The strength of the magic coursing through the cave continued to climb as first one, then another couple climaxed together. Lucius was driving Narcissa towards the peak, his eyes fixed on Luna and Seamus, taking strength from their youth, or simply enjoying the sight of Luna's body sheathed in sweat. Hermione felt her own body respond, her centre warm and eager, and she unconsciously touched her breasts, one hand ghosting across her nipple as the other slowly dipped to brush through her pubic hair. A part of her felt a frisson of shame; personal grooming had not been high on her agenda for some time and she had had little time to do anything since arriving, having merely been able to bathe in the river. The gentle touches served to heighten her awareness, her own excitement rising, beginning to override her senses and her head lolled back, eyelids closing. She heard Seamus’ panting groan, Luna's orgasmic cries of delight as he filled her, her own pleasure spiking. Behind her now, as she had turned to watch her friends, she heard Narcissa’s cry, low and keening, as Lucius let go at last, completing the ritual.

 

All around her lay the gasping and panting of the circle. Thrumming through her was a sense of great power and magic, coming closer. She turned towards it, her whole body trembling with trepidation and ecstasy. She was wet, so close to the edge, but dared not touch herself again for fear of losing control and ruining this critical moment.

 

“The sun will rise.” Soft lips delicately caressed the younger witch’s throat and she could feel the hands run over her body, sheer, unadulterated power rolling off of the older witch. “Are you ready for this, Hermione?” Narcissa whispered. “Ready to claim the answers and, I hope, the peace you so desperately seek? To see the truth buried deep in your soul, no matter how painful?”

 

Tears spilled down the brunette’s cheeks as she nodded, her heart aching with sorrow, even as her entire body quivered with near total erotic ecstasy. The brink was tantalisingly close.

 

“Do not succumb to the numbness,” Narcissa said, “do not let fear take control of you. Allow the bile to stagnate, and let go of the hate and anger you have been carrying with you since it happened.” She gently wiped a tear from the young witch’s cheek, the touch sending another shiver of pleasure through her. “I give you control, my dear. Blessed be.”

 

The other couples murmured the refrain as well, but Hermione didn’t hear. Narcissa’s lips pressed to hers, her tongue demanding entrance to the witch’s mouth. Hermione granted her access, meeting her and accepting her kiss; she had a split second to be aware of the older woman’s naked body against hers, her arms around her and holding her close, her breasts still firm even after childbirth, to savour the exhilarating rush of kissing an older, more powerful magic user, and the secret thrill of kissing another woman again.

 

Then the magic surged forward, rushing through Narcissa’s lips, into her own, skating over her highly aroused nerve endings, reaching every part of her body. The flood of power was immense, but even in the near overwhelming surge, the younger witch could feel the nuances; the light and flickering power, flighty, leaping from nerve to nerve within her, exploring and learning as it went; a love of life that was tempered with sadness and loss, self-made promises to succeed and to love again, tinged with the scent of rolling green hills; a strong, determined magic with bright green eyes, sworn to protect and defend all, fiercely loyal, leaping along her bones; warm glows that spoke of home cooked food and cozy chats, fun and laughter, and a strong familial love; magic coated with secrets and shadows, determination and power, as well as shame of the past, dark and light magic swirling around each other eternally. Another magic was in them, that of the witch that had been with Harry, and she twined herself around Harry’s magic, soaring through the air on wings of burning love. Hermione had a moment to feel surprised; she was clearly Harry’s girlfriend, but he hadn’t introduced her...

 

The swirling ball of power, eight witches and wizards strong, caught hold of Hermione’s own magic, mixed with it, merged with it,  _ became _ it. It roiled within her, reaching every part of her body at once, touching every nerve. She had a sudden flash of Theo's face and the feel of Luna’s lips against hers in her mind's eye, just as the most powerful orgasm she had ever experienced rocked her from her feet. She was just barely aware of shaking and jerking in Narcissa’s arms, a rivulet of arousal dripping from her core, her breasts sensitive to every single air molecule, a low keening cry gasping from her. She came so hard that she was floating, flying into the air, into the explosion of colours that made up the stars. The swirling points of fire aligned in strange patterns, symbols that teased her mind and her body with their obscurity and their familiarity. The magical threads that were with her snaked forward, gripping the fabric of space and stretching it taut.

 

As she had been taught, with what little control she still had over her limbs, Hermione lifted her hand, finger extended, aiming for the centre of the universe. With a focused beam of power, lancing from her like a bolt of lightning, she pierced the veil, rushing forward in a swirl of light and sound.

 

As it swallowed her whole there was a burst of noise and a glistening green locust leapt out of the shadows, making her heart leap in fear, then she shuddered and went limp in Narcissa’s arms.

 

\---------------------------------------------------

 

Quiet fell over the circle, the eight magic users mentally exhausted from the effort of pushing their magic into Hermione. Lucius joined his wife, easing the burden by lifting Hermione from her and carrying her over to the small cot that had been set up for her. She would sleep like the dead until she had finished her journey through the spirit world, and the Malfoys would stand guard over her; they knew, having been told by Arthur, that the youngest Weasley children were liable to cause mischief.

 

_ Well _ , thought Lucius,  _ from what I can tell, Ginerva is likely to cause the mischief… young Ronald is just as distraught as Ms Granger over the loss of their daughter. Shame he couldn’t keep his explosive temper under control at the time! _ The Malfoy patriarch lay Hermione down, covering her sleeping form with a large blanket, before stepping away.

 

Narcissa joined him and the two embraced, he placing a gentle kiss on the top of her head. Her arms wrapped around him, her cheek against his firm chest, comforted by his warmth.

 

“A little on the nose with the words there, Cissy. Do you not think she will join the dots and question? She is unnecessarily clever, after all.”

 

“I needed to be sure that he was in her mind, that her sexuality was properly awakened. He is good, but you know how broken she is.” She sighed heavily.

 

“Something troubles you, my wife?”

 

She nodded. “There is a feeling in the air… the ether… there are spirits here that wish ill.”

 

“To Ms Granger?”

 

“I think so, yes. There is the feeling of an old soul, one who has walked many lives, always on dark paths. And it hates! It hates so much that every turn on the wheel has led to nothing but pain and terror…”

 

“Not… him?”

 

She shook her head. “No, Voldemort’s soul is a tattered and shredded mess. For any other soul I would think it a mercy to draw it here and end it once and for all. For him though… he can stay that way!”

 

“But there is another soul? Have we encountered this one before, my love?”

 

“I have known it my whole life. I know it as well as I know my own heartbeat… know  _ her _ …”

 

“Her? You mean…?” Lucius frowned and swore softly under his breath as his wife nodded. 


	4. Chapter 4

Hermione opened her eyes.

 

Everything was quiet, peaceful. She floated serenely in the darkness for a while, seeing light above her, coming closer. She realised she was in some kind of tunnel, white sides, smooth like porcelain. The thought stirred fear within her and she willed herself upwards, towards the sky.

 

The top of the tunnel was fluted outwards, a bright blue sky with soft fluffy clouds above it. She reached for the edge and her hand encountered a smooth barrier.

 

Her chest hurt and she released the breath she had been holding unaware… a string of bubbles drifted out of her mouth and nose, rising towards the sky.

 

She was in water!

 

 _No… No! Please, no!!_ _Not this, please! Rose!!_

 

There was an invisible barrier around her, following her movements, preventing her from reaching the edge. Her chest ached as she tried to break through, unable to pierce the bubble’s skin; it merely flexed around her tighter, more restrictive. The sides were slick and she was unable to find purchase. Something seemed to be pushing her downwards, holding her under. Her throat ached, her heart pounded, her lungs were screaming with pain. She couldn't hold on any longer… she breathed in, involuntarily.

 

Water flooded her lungs and the pain intensified, ripping across her nerves and swamping her mind with blind terror. Her magic lashed out, surging, bursting through the bubble and she flung herself upwards in a spray of foam and bubbles, thrashing wildly, grabbing the sides and heaving herself out onto brilliantly green grass.

 

Coughing up water and choking, she lay on the ground, her hair hanging around her face in bedraggled clumps, tears burning her eyes and her heart screaming with pain; pain of loss, the agony of heartbreak.

 

Finally able to draw a breath she dug her fingers into the soft grass, into the soil, and screamed. It was the sound of a broken woman, wishing for death, for release, for something to change the past. Her trembling hand touched the bath that she had crawled out of.

 

The bath that Rose had drowned in.

 

\---------------------------------------------------

 

“So,” he said quietly, “are yer gonna tell me what's goin’ on with yer, lassy? Yer don't seem yerself at al'.”

 

Luna smiled at Seamus, looking up at him as they lay in his tent, satiated once more. “What do you mean, Seamus. Are you not enjoying yourself?”

 

He gave a laugh and hugged her closer. “'Course! But I don't know what's gonna 'appen after this. Yer a married woman, an I'm pretty sure this is against de rules. Plus I have no idea why yer were askin’ me ter keep an eye on yer man, Theo, earlier.”

 

Luna half closed her eyes, seemingly drifting off, but in truth she was wide awake, her mind churning. “I don't trust him,” she said simply after a minute.

 

“Really? Got drunk wi' him earlier. He seems like a decent bloke, and pretty smitten wi' Hermione. I only interrupted their shiftin’ cos yer asked me ter, and I think I deserve some sort of explanation, yer know?”

 

“I'm not sure you do, Seamus.”

 

“And what the hell do yer mean by that?” His tone was rough, annoyed at her blasé dismissal. “Yer think I'm just gonna be eaten bread for yer? Forgotten about once me job is done?”

 

Luna sat up, gathering her dress and slipping it on. She leant over and planted a tender kiss on his mouth before standing and heading for the tent entrance.

 

“Luna! Yer can't just walk out without givin’ me some sort of reason for al' dis!”

 

“I can, because _you_ don't trust _me_.”

 

“What do yer mean, yer eejit woman,” he hissed, struggling to keep his temper in check and his voice pitched low so he didn't wake Rodney, who was asleep in a separate compartment. “Of course I trust yer! I did what yer asked on faith and I'm after gettin’ more of the why.”

 

“If you trusted me you would know that I don't do things without reason, and that I would never ask someone I…” She blushed in the low light of the tent. “Someone I am really quite fond of, to do something that seems underhanded without a very good reason. The fact that I do not trust Theo Nott should be enough. For now at least.”

 

Seamus chewed that over, still annoyed. He couldn't deny that the blonde witch was seldom mistaken about things; she was extremely clever, logical, and wise, all wrapped up in a beautiful, slightly mad, package. He looked up, admiring her in the lamplight and her disheveled hair that spoke of a damn good night. “Alright, I get it. I trust yer ter have yer reasons that I don't need to know just yet. Plus I still want to help yer; if yer man is after 'urting Hermione then I’ll batter ‘im! Poor lass is wrapped more times than a bad Christmas present!”

 

“Have you noticed that you seem to get more Irish when you’re het up?” She smiled at his sheepish shrug. “I’ll tell you everything later, Seamus, I promise.”

 

“Good enough, mo stór beag,” he said with a smile, “good enough.”

 

Luna clapped her hands quietly and gave a delighted giggle at the Irishman. “‘Little treasure’!” she said, blowing him a kiss. “Sleep tight, Seamus. Don’t let the Nargles steal your dreams!” She slipped out of the tent, and Seamus could hear her skipping away, humming happily to herself.

 

Wide awake now and unable to sleep, Seamus stared up at the roof of his tent. “What de 'ell’s goin’ on in yer noodle, Seamus lad… she’s blatherin' about bein' underhanded… she’s a married witch!” He ground the palms of his hands into his eyes in frustration. “Argh! Dis is not gonna end well, ya feckin’ muppet!”

 

\---------------------------------------------------

 

The area around her was painted in vivid colours, the most vibrant hues she had ever seen. The bright green grass beneath her was soft and warm, caressing her hands as she stroked them across the blades. The dirt beneath her fingers smelled strongly, fresh and earthy, pleasant. The sky above her was the most perfect blue and each cloud within it beautifully shaped, drifting along in isolation, shining white and fluffy. There was no sun in that cerulean sky, but the field in which she lay was lit as if it was the brightest of days. The air was warm and a soft breeze carried the scent of wildflowers and the faint humming of bees.

 

Hermione sat up and looked around, forgetting for a moment where she was and why she was there. Then she saw the bath and it all came crashing back to her. She turned away from it, unwilling to see it again, to remember…

 

She looked down at her hands, seeing bruises on the backs, her nails chipped and broken and there was a blood blister under one. Her skin was pallid and yellowed, her clothes ripped in places and almost bleached of colour. Her hair was knotted and matted, hanging in dirty clumps around her eyes and she swept it back, standing in a rush. Despite herself she staggered over to the bath and looked into her reflection; a haggard woman, with hollow cheeks, sunken and black-ringed eyes stared back at her.

 

“What the hell…?” she whispered, recoiling from the sight. She looked a mess! Is that what everyone had been seeing when they looked at her, a woman that clearly hadn’t slept well in months? She looked down at herself, surprised to see herself clothed since she had been naked during the ritual. It was as if her favourite blouse and jeans had been worn and washed until they were at the end of their usable life.

 

There was a wisp of smoke, twisting and undulating across the grass. It was moving independent of the wind, heading determinedly towards her. As it came close it lifted up, flattening itself, changing shape. A thread stretched forward from the bulk of it, twisting and churning till it looked like a hand… a hand, palm out, coming slowly closer. It paused a short distance from her, hanging in the air, seemingly waiting for her.

 

Slowly, not sure she was doing the right thing, she lifted her own hand and touched it softly to the smoke’s palm.

 

In a burst of light and crack of thunder a man appeared in front of her, screaming her name!

 

She shrieked, flinging herself away in terror only to hear him laughing, stood there with his hands on his knees, shaking with mirth.

 

“Oh, Merlin, I’ve missed doing that! I haven’t been able to do it in years!” He slapped his thigh and stood straight, still chuckling, his flaming red hair bright and almost glowing with his humour, freckles scattered in a profusion over his cheeks, and his brown eyes dancing with mirth.

 

“Fred!?” she gasped. “Oh my god, Fred!”

 

Fred Weasley opened his arms and wrapped her in a massive hug. “Hullo, Hermione, how’s it shaking?”

 

She laughed, her heart still pounding from the fright. “So much better for seeing you!”

 

“Really?” He held her out to look at her. “Cause you look like death warmed up, love!”

 

“Thanks, Fred,” she said with a half offended glare.

 

“No, seriously… Your spiritual form is a reflection of you in the physical world, but more of your emotional state.” He looked at her closely, Hermione starting to feel like a bug on display. “You are not dealing well, are you?”

 

“I've… been better, certainly. I lost someone… someone very special.”

 

He nodded. “Rose. I know.”

 

“You do?”

 

“Of course, us spirits are all seeing and all powerful! You think Trelawney has power, you wait till you see what we can do here!”

 

“Really?”

 

“No, not at all, I'm just a lowly spirit, I don’t know shit,” he said with a smirk.

 

She shook her head. “You haven't changed at all, have you?”

 

“Of course not, I've been here since I died, and I'm not going anywhere for a long time, hopefully!”

 

She noticed then that there was a dark patch on his side, a wet stain that spread slightly across the hip of his trousers. “Is that…?”

 

“Oh that! Oh that's just where my twin should be. Don't worry about it, it's always a bit bloody.”

 

“So… you two are, literally, joined at the hip?”

 

“Uhuh. And I'm going to be here in this luscious land until he finally decides he's had enough fun, and then we'll get spun out again. It's how it's always been since we were first born here.”

 

“So you're not _really_ Fred? You've been many people, and always a twin?”

 

“That's right! And you're seeing Fred because that's the part of me that you knew in life, and also because… well, I quite liked being him, too! He was fun, and being the pranksters supreme was great. Right up until I took a wall in the face, of course. That bit sucked…

 

“See, the spirit world is a reflection of the physical one. Belief and emotion have real power here; fear, conviction, joy, sadness, lust, hopelessness; it's almost like currency. You channel it in the direction you want it to go in order to make what you want to happen, happen. If I want to eat--not that any of us need to--I simply channel some energy into creating food. The energy used dictates how good the food is. The negative spirits would not eat well, that's for sure. Me? I eat like a King! If I want to be somewhere else, I will it...”

 

Fred suddenly vanished, leaving Hermione looking around in surprise.

 

“And then,” he said, appearing behind her and making her jump again, “I arrive!”

 

“Stop scaring me!” she laughed, slapping him on the arm.

 

“Come on,” he said, holding out a hand. “You’re not here to see me, as much as that’s been a bonus for you. You’re here to see someone both smaller, and greater.”

 

“Rose.”

 

He nodded, abruptly serious. “Take my hand, I’ll take you to her.”

 

\---------------------------------------------------

 

The journey was a blur to Hermione. It wasn't that they had Apparated, or even gone particularly fast, but the how and the where was all mixed up in her head. Part of her thought they had walked for miles, but she also thought it had been quick as a wink. It must be a strange peculiarity of the spirit world, but she was soon stood outside a familiar house. One that made her stomach clench with dread.

 

It was her old marital home.

 

Well, it _looked_ like it, but at the same time--much like many things in this land--it wasn't it at all.

 

The fascias and fronting was both dilapidated and fresh, the trees in the garden well groomed and dying. It was brightly lit within, yet nothing of the contents could be seen for the shadows.

 

A prickle of fear chased its way through her as she stepped onto the clean and broken path that led to the front door. She had taken several steps, almost drawn towards it, before she realised she was walking alone.

 

“Fred?” she said, looking around. A small wisp of smoke stood at the end of the path, slowly dissipating in a nonexistent breeze.

 

“Sorry, Hermione,” his voice said, drifting into her mind without using her ears, “I can't go in with you. This is for you to remember alone.”

 

Looking back at the house she realised what she would find in there and the fear spiked. “I can't… Fred, I don't want to see…”

 

“You must. You need to remember that night, see what happened. Live it again. I'm sorry, but you've ignored it for too long…”

 

His voice faded and she saw that the wisp was now a thread, drifting away from her. Soon it was gone and she was alone. She hugged herself, shivering, even though there was no breeze and the temperature was perfectly even. Her feet stepped forward despite her reluctance, the path rolling under her feet and bringing her closer to the door, which swung silently open on rusted, creaking hinges.

 

She blinked and opened her eyes stood in the hallway.

 

She had started to hate coming home; there was always something wrong; either Rose had been cranky for Molly, or Ron had had a bad day at work, or there was something that had happened that led to an argument between the married couple. Their marriage for the most part had been tranquil and happy, but since Rose had been born things had gone downhill. A shadow had lain over their lives, despite the happiness that their beautiful daughter had brought them.

 

With a sigh she hung her coat on the rack and walked into the kitchen, placing her keys in the bowl. She ran herself a glass of water, drinking it in one, wincing from the cold against her teeth. Leaning on the counter for a moment, she breathed a sigh before turning to head upstairs. She could hear Molly singing softly to Rose and smiled, her heart lifting again.

 

“Hello, Hermione, love,” whispered her mother-in-law, with a beaming smile. “She’s just had some dinner, and I’ve drawn her bath for you too.”

 

The pair embraced warmly, the younger witch looking over Molly’s shoulder to see her daughter in the cot. There was some kind of corona of blackened light, hovering around Rose’s head, and she stepped towards the cot, a lump of fear pushing its way up into her throat.

 

She ignored Molly’s chatter and slowly she faded from the room as Hermione picked her daughter up, the little girl staring around. There was something in the baby’s eyes, belying the beaming smile that lit up her face as she focused on Hermione’s face.

 

Something crawled across Hermione’s scalp, and nameless creeping dread as she stared at Rose, who giggled happily.

 

That laugh broke the illusion, the black shadow fading and vanishing. Her spirits lifted once more and she laughed with her daughter. It would be an hour so before Ron got home, so she still had time to play, bathe Rose, then get her ready for bed before he arrived.

 

She turned to get some of Rose's toys, stepping across the soft carpet, when the little girl began to cry; sharply, loudly, full of pain. Hermione spun back and gave a cry of horror.

 

Hovering above Rose's head was a dark, swirling cloud. Twin points of red glared from the swirling mass, straight into Hermione's heart, filling her with fear.

 

“ _Expecto Patronum!_ ” she cried, the silver otter bursting from her wand to charge at the swirling cloud. It recoiled from the creature, leaving Rose alone. The little girl cowered on the floor, hands over her head.

 

As the otter stood between the child and the cloud, the witch spoke. “What the hell are you? What do you want?”

 

Slowly, the shadow began to coalesce, the form of a woman slowing taking shape. Wild, black hair, high cheekbones with handsome, aristocratic features. A sneer of disdain graced the pale face and Hermione recoiled at the venom in the eyes.

 

“Bellatrix! No, that's impossible!”

 

“Impossible, Mudblood?” Bellatrix's voice was quiet, hissing. “What do you know of the Dark Arts? Filthy creature! I was the Dark Lord’s favourite, privy to some of his most guarded secrets. You think he was the only one to create a Horcrux?” The evil presence swamped the brunette's mind with terror, swooping forward and around the Patronus, the little creature staying where it had been placed: Rose’s guardian.

 

Face to face with the dark witch once more, she felt her resolve slipping, remembering the torture, the fear. She barely saw the Patronus start to fade.

 

“You should be honoured! No other Mudblood would be worth tracking down, but your daughter… she will feed me for a very long time! Her life force is strong, and your pain will be delicious!” She cackled and swept aside as Hermione gave a shout of anger, lashing out with her fist, her wand falling, forgotten, to the floor.

 

The dark spirit taunted her, streaking around the room and avoiding the angry woman, before landing behind Rose once more.

 

“Get away from my daughter, you bitch!”

 

Bellatrix just laughed, sinking tendrils of dark shadow into the toddler's head.

 

Hermione screamed in rage as her baby shrieked in fear and agony. Running forward she lunged for Bellatrix, but the witch vanished in a swirl of smoke, leaving the brunette clutching air.

 

“You can't stop me, filthy Mudblood! Your daughter will be mine!”

 

Hermione sagged suddenly, energy leeching from her and she staggered, clutching the wall for support. Her head spun as a wave of nausea swept over her. “You can't have her…” she gasped, “I'll never let… let you take her!”

 

Bellatrix's voice whispered in her ear. “There's nothing you can do, mummy… you cannot dispel me… you cannot destroy me… you are powerless… and your fear is exquisite!”

 

“You're just a shadow…” Hermione whispered, lips trembling, her mind numb, thoughts like treacle. She couldn't think straight, the dark witch's power twisting her mind into circles, her body rebelling against her commands. “You're no Voldemort…”

 

Bellatrix laughed, hissing and sibilant. “No… I'm worse! I have become a vampiric spirit that feeds on young life… And you have no running river to drown me in, do you?”

 

“Wha…?” The witch's mind was sluggish, trying to think, barely able to do so, Bellatrix's power like a blanket that swaddled her tight.

 

“Well I can only be stopped by running water, and here we are, miles from any… so you… are… fucked!” She swept away from Hermione leaving the witch gasping on the floor, limbs shaking and trembling uncontrollably. The shadow enveloped Rose, the girl crying out again.

 

Hermione's hand brushed against her wand, lying in the floor, and she snatched it up, a thought finally breaking through the fog. A lancing beam of light lashed out from the tip, wrapping itself around the shadow, Bellatrix screaming in rage, Rose shrieking in pain. The light lifted the shadow from Rose and Hermione staggered forward, pushing the spirit before her, backing her towards the door to the bathroom adjoining the room.

 

With a cry of effort she plunged the dark cloud into the bath, holding her under the water. Beneath the surface she could see the vampiric creature laughing, mocking her. Plunging her hands into the warm liquid Hermione got hold of Bellatrix as she solidified once more, keeping her pinned. She lifted one foot and kicked out at the tap at the head of the bath, water gushing out.

 

“No running water? Fuck you, Bellatrix! You're dead!”

 

A bolt of light flashed from the witch's wand, shattering a chunk out of the foot of the bath, the water starting to flow onto the floor. She felt a surge of triumph then, as a light of fear appeared in Bellatrix's eyes, her limbs starting to thrash. The water foamed around her as she flailed, fighting against the younger witch's strength. Hermione's face was locked in a rictus as she struggled to hold the evil spirit down, allowing the water to flow, cutting off her power, drowning her magic.

 

Eventually the fighting stopped and the image of the evil spirit began to fade, dissipating before her eyes, inky tendrils in the water.

 

Hermione had time to scream once, before her mind went blank.

\---------------------------------------------------

 

Part of her had stood in the corner of the bathroom, tears streaming down her face, forced to watch again the moment that she had fought a shadow, chased it round the room, before she picked up her wand, lifted her baby girl from the floor and plunged her into the bath. She had watched in mute horror as she had reached into the tub to hold her daughter beneath the surface, as the small hands had begun to flail. She had watched as she had twitched her leg towards the tap, glanced at the foot of the bath; no water flowed, no split appeared in the porcelain, that had all been in her head. She watched, when Rose had stopped moving, how she had withdrawn her hands from the water, gave a scream of horror, and collapsed to the floor. She had seen the shadow of Bellatrix Lestrange, standing over her unconscious body, contempt and triumph in her eyes, before she faded away to nothingness. She saw Ron come home, find the awful scene, his cries of grief and denial, his demands for answers from her, her mumbled response the she had had no choice, that she had to do it. She saw the Healer pronounce it to be a tragic accident, Hermione's own mind refusing to remember exactly what had happened, shying away from the truth, claiming she had heard an intruder, not remembering her words to Ron. Ron's disbelief, his accusations, his anger, the screaming arguments, her denials. She saw the end of her marriage, people rallying around her against Ron and Ginny. She heard them commiserate with her, how hard it was, how tired she had been, finding excuses and reasons for the accident.

 

She saw it all… unable to turn away, unable to deny, unable to comprehend… Her heart was ripped from her chest, her throat cut raw from the pain of her grief brought back full fold, any modicum of healing she had achieved in the last two years completely destroyed. She huddled in the cold bathroom, surrounded by shadows and memories, and sobbed.

 

\---------------------------------------------------

 

Awareness eventually returned to her, darkness enshrouding her shivering body. She was outside, the house nowhere to be seen. Night had fallen.

 

“Hello, mummy…”

 

The hissing whisper crawled across her skin, and she recoiled from the dark eyes that hovered at her shoulder. “Bellatrix!”

 

The dark witch coiled about her, formed of smoke and shadow. “Mummy… what are you doing, mummy? Help me, mummy!” Her voice was high pitched, pleading, mocking her.

 

“Shut up!”

 

“You were supposed to protect me, mummy…”

 

“I said shut up!” Hermione screamed, lunging awkwardly to her feet. Her legs wouldn't support her and she sprawled to the ground again.

 

Bellatrix laughed, cackling evilly as she swirled around the witch's head. “You are in my world now, Mudblood. And you sent me your daughter, exactly as I wanted… a fresh, delectable spirit for me to feed on… So I should thank you… mummy.”

 

“Stop calling me that!” The young witch curled up on herself, trying to block out the evil witch's words. She could still hear her laughter though, mad and cackling.

 

“Maybe I should do you a favour and just destroy your soul, here and now… Put you out of your misery!”

 

There was a rush of sound, claws on stone, a flash of light and the howl of a wolf, loud in the young witch’s ears. It echoed through the air, sending chills over her skin. She looked up to see a huge, silver wolf towering above her. Bellatrix shied away from its light, snarling in anger as it drove her back.

 

The wolf reared up into its back legs, roaring in rage and fury, swiping at the dark spirit. She fled, dissipating into the shadow of which she was formed.

 

Hermione cowered behind the werewolf, trembling in fear as it turned towards her. Gradually its form changed, shrinking down to that of a man. He held out his hand to her, his eyes as kind and familiar as his features.

 

“Remus…” she breathed, taking his hand and standing. She flung herself into his arms.

 

“Hermione, my dear, it is good to see you again.”

 

“Why are you here? Have you not been reborn yet?”

 

The former professor smiled. “No, I'm not going anywhere till I have seen our charge be reborn first. And that is where you come in.”

 

“Me?” she quavered. “What do I have to do with anything?”

 

“Come with me, my dear. It's about time you got the closure you seek. I think I’ve still got some chocolate around here somewhere… Good for recovery, you remember?”

 

She nodded, her heart pounding. Taking his hand, his other still searching pockets for the elusive sweet, the world around them seemed to dissolve.

 

\---------------------------------------------------

 

“Wotcher, Granger!”

 

Her hand still in Remus’ she goggled at yet another familiar figure with bright pink hair, her casual clothes hugging her form as she she strode through the tall grass towards her. “Tonks?”

 

The Auror, killed in the Battle of Hogwarts alongside Remus, smiled and promptly stumbled over her own feet. “Woah… Who put that there?” she muttered before hugging her tightly. “Come on, you need to meet someone. We’re running out of time!”

 

“But… why are you and Remus still here? And Fred too? Well, him I understand, he's waiting for George… but you two?”

 

“We're looking after our special guest.” She flung an arm around Hermione's shoulders, her hair changing to blue. “Your little girl is one of those very rare things; a brand new spirit! Very exciting stuff!”

 

Hermione questioned Tonk’s spirit as they walked towards a small cairn on the top of a nearby hill. The enthusiastic woman laughed and answered her questions, seemingly excited to have someone else to talk to.

 

Rose was a new spirit, a rare being of fresh energy and innocence. She had never lived before her time as Hermione's daughter; it was her first life, but because it had been short she hadn't lost any of that strength. Creatures like Bellatrix; dark spirits that wanted nothing but to cause death and fear; they could use that power as a source of energy, draw on it in order to fuel their next turn on the wheel to create more pain and suffering. Tonks, Remus, and Fred had taken it upon themselves to guard her from Bellatrix and her ilk until she was spun out again, and they had been doing so for the last two years.

 

“The only problem is that she doesn’t _want_ to go back to just anyone!” Tonks grimaced, slightly. “Says she’s going to wait until _you_ can have her back again!”

 

“Me!?” The younger witch was incredulous. “Why would she want to come back to me? After… after what I did…?”

 

“Hey!” Tonks rounded on her, holding her arms and glaring at her. “You are _not_ to blame for what happened! Bellatrix was screwing with your head for weeks before that final night, and she managed to use every trick in her arsenal to mess with you! There is no-one, alive or dead, that could have resisted such an insidious, dedicated attack!”

 

“I should have known something was wrong, though.”

 

“A new baby, a busy job, a mind that goes ninety to the dozen at all hours of the day? Where exactly did you expect to have time to think that maybe the slight feeling of unease and distress you and Ron had been feeling was anything other than new parent stress? Shut up,” she scoffed. “Bellatrix’s influence started small and built up over time, until it was normal for you to feel anxious coming home. Her final attack played on every single fear you have buried inside you. If it hadn’t been you, it would have been Ron; one of you would have killed Rose that night, thinking that you were keeping her safe! You were both being targeted!”

 

Hermione sniffed, still not convinced, but she was loathe to say so with Tonks glaring at her, so she nodded. “Okay… it’s going to take time to really accept that though.”

 

“I know, but you’ll get there, you’ll be fine. Then you can get back on the horse and help this one become your little charge once more!”

 

Hermione gave a huff of laughter, not believing she would be ready to ‘get back on the horse’ any time soon!

 

They had reached the cairn, larger than it had appeared from further down the hill. Remus stayed a little way down the slope, facing outwards and watching for danger. Tonks indicated for Hermione to follow her through the small opening in the side of the stone pile, before ducking down and smacking her head on the stone lintel. “Ow! Son of a….” the Auror muttered, clapping a hand to her forehead, before disappearing within.

 

The interior of the stone pile was cool and dim, smelling faintly of the soil that made up the bare floor. The stone walls were bare in most places, but there were occasional pictures stuck to them. They were childlike drawings made with crayons, little more than scribbles for the most part. Some had more definition and it was possible to see shapes in the scribbled lines; there was one that was mostly a mass of red scribble, and in the centre two patches of blue, level with each other. Another was more defined again, mainly dark brown but shaped like curls, with two lighter brown patches in a clear central part.

 

Hermione was drawn to them, seeing them side by side. “Are they… me… and Ron?” she asked, surprised to feel her throat clench.

 

“I think so,” mused Tonks. “She likes to draw but always comes back to redoing those two images.” The older witch nudged her playfully. “Looks like you made on impression of her, don't’cha think?”

 

Hermione turned to look around, her eyes glistening in the dim light. A flicker of movement caught her eye, and a small shape jumped towards her, landing on her shoulder. It was no more than a couple of inches tall, formed of mist and sparkling light. A flood of warm emotion flowed from it as it coiled around Hermione's neck and shoulders, caressing and leaving a warm tingle behind it. A tiny laugh, filled with love and affection, sang through the cairn and Hermione held out her hands. The tiny spirit pooled in them, filling them and holding her fingers.

 

“Rose, my darling, my sweet girl… I am so sorry!” She sank to her knees, tears falling, staring in wonder at the spirit of her little girl. Nothing but happiness flowed into the witch as her daughter cavorted around her head again before coming back to her hands. “I wish I could take you with me, darling,” she whispered, somehow knowing that's what Rose wanted. “I don't think I could take you back to the physical world. I would love it if I could stay with you… I… I don't deserve…”

 

The little spirit changed colour abruptly, shimmering through darker hues before settling back to the light smoke.

 

“She disagrees,” Tonks muttered out of the corner of her mouth.

 

“But what I did… How can that ever be forgiven?”

 

Rose giggled again, the light sound filled with innocence and joy, and Hermione felt herself smile even as her heart broke with love.

  
“It just is,” Tonks whispered. “She has no ill will, doesn't even know the meaning of the phrase. She loves you, strongly enough to wait here till _you_ bring her forth from the wheel again.” She put her arm around the brunette's shoulders and hugged her. “I can't think of anything more validating than that.”


	5. Chapter 5

Hermione walked slowly down the hill, robe wrapped tight about her naked body to ward off the cool autumn morning air, her feet wet from the dew. The sun was only threatening the sky at the moment and wouldn’t raise above the horizon for another few hours.

 

Her thoughts were as heavy as her footsteps; Bellatrix wanted her baby’s soul, wanted to use her innocence and energy to fuel her madness and evil. The other spirits could only protect Rose for so long, could only hold Bellatrix back but never truly defeat her. That required an intervention from the physical world. Another circle, more sex magic, driving the power even higher in order to pull the dark spirit from her lair, forcing her into the circle and dealing with her.

 

She had awoken a short while ago as if from a deep sleep. Lucius and Narcissa had been sat in the entrance to the cave, guarding her, and they turned as she stood up, sensing her return. Both were keen to hear of her journey, of what she had learned.

 

She had not wanted to tell them, to admit the full truth, so she had evaded their questions, only saying that she had spoken to Rose, had learned that she was in danger. The Malfoy's had known part of it, said that they had sensed the evil of Bellatrix nearby. Narcissa wanted her to be part of the ritual, part of the circle, to join in this time. With more magic they could destroy Bellatrix's soul completely, though it wouldn't be easy.

 

Hermione did not want to be part of the circle. She had barely even touched anyone since Rose had died, two years ago. The most she had done was the tantalisingly close moments with Theo. The revelations tonight, however, had served to kill her sexual appetite, take the shreds of whatever desire she had left and stomp them into dust. She was a husk.

 

And the worst part of it all? Ron had been right, about everything. She had killed Rose. She had, deliberately, held her baby girl under the water until she had drowned.

 

She was a murderer, just as Ginny had said.

 

There was no redemption from this, no matter what Tonks and the others had said, no matter that her daughter’s own spirit had forgiven her; she was a brand new spirit, innocent and fresh, with no experience of life. How could she forgive for something she didn't understand? _ And who’s fault is that _ , she thought bitterly,  _ who stole that life from her before she had a chance to learn? _ ”

 

There was a light touch on her consciousness, barely a breath of awareness. It was filled with love, affection, laughter, and determination: Fred. She felt the negative thought drain away; yes it had been her hands that had done the deed, but she had not been herself, had not known what she was doing. It had been made clear to her in the spirit world, that the guilt she was feeling was entirely misplaced.

 

She didn’t know if she would ever be able to accept that fully, but it was what the spirits believed, what they said was the truth. There were those that would be able to verify and confirm it, Narcissa had hinted as much before she had left to prepare. Though the Malfoy matriarch had not been aware of how Rose had died, she knew that Bellatrix was involved and so lies would need to be unravelled. Other spirits would be called to bear witness.

 

Hermione had till midnight to cleanse herself in body and mind, rid herself of negative energy, stress, doubt, fear… When the witching hour came today they would summon and destroy the spirit of Bellatrix Lestrange, once and for all!

 

Her feet led her towards the tents, not seeing, not thinking, until they stopped of their own volition. There was a small campfire here and a small tent, enough for two comfortably, or three very friendly people. A man sat outside, staring into the fire, searching for the answers to his woes if his posture was any judge.

 

“Theo,” she said quietly.

 

He looked up, her voice bringing him to his feet. “Hermione! Gods, you look frozen. Come on, come sit by the fire!”

 

She resisted when he tried to pull her gently towards the heat, holding his hands in a icy grip. “Theo,” she whispered, “just hold me. Please.”

 

He paused for only a second, eyes flicking to the fire, then wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to his chest, tucking her head under his and stroking his hands over her back. He could feel her cold skin even through the robe. They stood like that for a while, Theo feeling her body trembling beneath his hands. She was ice cold! “Are you okay? What happened?”

 

“I don't want to talk about it. I don't want to think of anything right now. I just want to be held. Want to feel your warmth, your touch.” She lifted her head, staring into his eyes, a chill hand touched his cheek, urging his face closer. “I just need you, Theo. I need you to save me from the darkness within.”

 

Her breathing was heavy and shaking, her body shivering uncontrollably, but her eyes were steady, clear of doubt. The energy they had felt in the tent before wrapped around them once more, pulling them closer. Hermione closed her eyes, anticipation making every nerve crackle with desire. Just the sight of him had awoken that need within her, allowed her to forget her pain, and just want to be held in his arms. If only for a little while.

 

She felt his lips brush hers, their heat like a fire compared to hers. His warmth was starting to seep into her but it was slow, too slow.

 

Then there was pressure, their lips connecting, completing. She moaned as she felt a line of fire pass slowly across her lips, and she opened her mouth to accept him, cold and heat dancing together. The cold began to thaw, need and desire pushing back its chill grasp. She pushed her body closer to his, feeling his arms tighten around her, wanting him to devour every part of her. Slowly she leant on him, pushing him back towards his tent, allowing him to guide them. Her eyes flickered open, seeing the entrance so close, just wanting his hands on her bare skin, his mouth on her breasts.

 

“Hermione!”

 

The shout brought a growl of anger, surprising in its strength, from the brunette, as she sensed Luna bound into the firelight. Theo paused, resisting Hermione's continued pushing for the moment.

 

“Hermione, what happened? Are you okay? Did you…?”

 

“Go away, Luna!” she said angrily, her voice still thick with need but quivering with frustration.

 

“But I came to see if you were okay!” Gentle hands touched her shoulder and she shrugged them off.

 

“I'm fine! I will be fine! Just… just leave us alone, please!”

 

“I was just…”

 

“Luna!”

 

“Hey,” Theo said, soothingly, “she’s just…”

 

“I know what she's doing, Theo. And she is going to  _ stop _ doing it and she is going to _ go _ …  _ away _ !”

 

Her head rested on his chest, unable to look at her friend, so she didn't see the wide-eyed hurt look that passed across Luna's face, her arms hugging herself in sorrow, the concern in her big blue eyes, or the glare that the blonde witch levelled at Theo. For a moment they were locked in a tableau, only the fire in motion. Hermione’s eyes were squeezed shut, fighting the urge to leave Theo's arms as it would only serve to break the moment completely.

 

She heard quiet footsteps walking away, and then the silence was broken only by the occasional pop and crackle of the fire. The witch let out a shaky breath. “I need to get warm.” Keeping a grip on his hands, she stepped around him and ducked down, pulling him into the tent after her.

 

The inside of the tent was a surprise and she had to instantly duck back down again, aborting her attempt to straighten. Unlike most magical folk’s tents, Theo had not cast multiple Extension Charms on it, and so the tent was only slightly bigger than it looked. His rucksack sat on one side, a simple sleeping bag in the middle, and his music player beside it.

 

“Oh! It’s not as big as I thought it would be…”

 

“Well, that’s not something a guy likes to hear,” he said with a laugh, casting a warming charm on the interior. “I could never get the hang of the Extension Charm, so there's only one been cast on it that I got Draco to do for me.” He gently pulled her down to lie beside him on the sleeping bag, wrapping her in his arms and holding her close.

 

She sighed, feeling her body begin to warm. Her toes were still painfully cold but the rest of her was starting to find a balance thanks to the charm and Theo’s body heat. Tentatively she slipped a hand under his t-shirt, laughing slightly at his indrawn hiss as her cold fingers stroked across his ribs. His skin was so warm, so inviting, and she slid her hand further up, stroking across his back and pulling him towards her. His lips were on hers again and she felt the desire begin to awaken in her centre once more, heat building between her legs as his tongue caressed hers. Their kisses were soft and tender, and the feel of Theo’s body against hers was so good. She lost herself in the simple pleasure of snogging like teenagers, her other hand in his hair, while her left explored his back before sliding down to slip into the top of his jeans.

 

His hands were on the back of her neck, sliding into her hair, pulling her close, when he felt her smile against his mouth.

 

“Why Mr Nott,” she whispered, “is that a wand in your pocket?”

 

He smiled at the joke, seeing the nerves in her eyes; she knew what she wanted, but the reality of it was starting to set in. “Listen,” he said, “let's just take this slowly, okay? I don't want you rushing into something if you're not in the right frame of mind.”

 

She looked at him for a moment, drinking in the concern and sincerity in his eyes. “You're sweet,” she whispered, cupping his cheek gently. In one smooth motion, she rolled him onto his back and straddled him, rising above him and flicking her hair over her shoulder. Slowly she undid the ties that held her robe closed, pulling the material aside to reveal her body to him. Her hands gripped his shoulders, squeezed them rhythmically, her thumbs stroking his neck. “I asked you earlier to save me from a lack of affection. Do you still want the job?”

 

Theo lay still, his hands on her thighs gazing up at her, drinking in the sight of her naked body rising above him. “You're so beautiful,” he whispered.

 

Slowly she took hold of his hands, moving them up her body till they rested beneath her breasts, then slid her own down his arms. He took the hint, cupping and gently caressing. Hermione gave a small gasp of pleasure as his thumbs passed across her tight nipples.

 

Leaning down she placed her lips on his, moaning softly as he massaged her breasts, and she tugged at the long sleeve t-shirt, pulling it upwards. Lifting his arms reluctantly away from her body he let her pull it over his head and cast it aside. Then she paused, looking down at his torso in the low light.

 

She frowned, looked him in the eyes, a confused expression gracing her face. She fumbled in a pocket of her robe and produced her wand. “ _ Lumos! _ ”

 

The light flared in the tent, Theo narrowing his eyes against it, an amused smile on his face. She stared at him, the tattoos decorating his body, the well defined muscles on his chest, stomach, and arms. Softly she traced her finger nail over the words placed over his heart, murmuring, “No one but me can save myself…” At her touch, the Slytherin's breath hissed in quietly, but she had already moved across to another tattoo; the Slytherin shield, resplendent in green and black, but with a simply drawn snake, coiled and poised, instead of the familiar one that represented the Hogwarts House. At her gentle caress, prompting another slow intake of breath, the snake hissed and the word 'Slytherin’ changed to 'Metallica’, glittering and flexing.

 

Hermione gave a delighted laugh at the display, the word fading back to normal again until she stroked it once more. She didn't notice Theo's quiet groan, already taking hold of his arm and lifting it so she could examine his ribs properly. A large image, that of a skeletal bird, wings folded back, wreathed in green fire and clutching a bullet in its beak, was diving towards his waist. Softly she ran her fingers over it, ignoring his slight whimper, and smiled widely as the flames leapt and crackled around the image, the bird seemingly in freefall and a wind rippling its wings.

 

“Hermione…” he said in a strained voice.

 

She shushed him, stroking the bird again to keep it in its perpetual dive. “What does this one mean?”

 

With a slight hitch in his voice as she continued to keep the bird in motion, he said, “It's an image from an album cover, my favourite one of theirs. The album is extremely anti-war...”

 

“Which band? Did you show me some of their music earlier?”

 

Biting his lip he shook his head. “Lamb of God...thought it might have been too heavy for you, possibly… oh man…” His head fell back, very aware of her weight on his crotch, as she dragged his right arm to her face, staring in wonder at the series of tattoos that wrapped every inch of it from shoulder to wrist.

 

The tattoos were both horrible and beautiful in their own way; seemingly the flesh of his arm in strips to reveal a diamond shape, inset with a circle that had an 'M’ and an 'H’ inside, one atop the other. It was coloured in alternating black and yellow and she gave a large smile, recognising it from their talk earlier in the day. Below that, on the side of his bicep was a skull being choked and consumed by the strips of skin. As she stroked the skin the tattoo moved, pushing the skull beneath his skin completely and making the band logo more prominent. She understood that one herself, giving a happy laugh: a smothering of his past with the music of his present. His forearm was decorated with interlocking patterns and images; flames, flowers, a miniature picture of Hogwarts castle that made her giggle excitedly. Her thumbs caressed his wrist, making Quidditch players circle above the castle towers.

 

“Hermione, I'm begging you…” he moaned then as she gave a crow of excitement and dropped his arm, almost plunged her hands to his waist, shuffling down his body and pulling at the top of his jeans. When she realised she couldn't see the whole thing she gave a huff of frustration and swiftly pulled at the button fly, almost tearing it open in her haste. Her hands parted the material, the tips of her fingers grazing over his skin and sending a shiver through his body, stronger than ever. “Oh my God… Hermione… you're killing me here…”

 

Ignoring him she hunkered down to read the small writing, her fingers tracing the words, painted in a delicate, flowing script over a black and white shield that was flanked by rampant lions, her breath ghosting over the top of Theo's hips and through the trail of hair that led into the waistband band of his boxers. As she read Theo gave another quiet gasp, his eyes nearly crossed at the sensation, his erection feeling like an iron bar just millimetres from her hand and mouth. A part of him loved the intense passion she was showing in her quest for knowledge and understanding of the images he had chosen to have inked permanently upon his skin, but most of him was dying from the erotic sensation of her hands, her fingers, her breath.

 

“ _ Hear me now, words I vow, no fucking regrets! Fuck these chains, no god damn slave, I will be different. I'll stand here defiantly, my middle finger raised, fuck your prejudice! _ ” She gave a happy smile and looked up at him. “Well, that one's very apt, isn't it? I can see why… why you got that… one…” She trailed off as she became aware of their relative positions, her head near his crotch, him gazing down at her with a strained look on his face. She was suddenly very conscious of something very firm resting against her wrist, separated from her by the thin material of his boxers, and cleared her throat. “Do you have any other tattoos?” she asked quietly.

 

“Got one on my back,” he whispered, “covers most of it.”

 

Her eyes lit up and she quickly moved upwards, already starting to pull his shoulder, trying to see.

 

With a growl he gripped her arms and flipped her over onto her back, pinning her down and holding her arms over her head with one hand. “Nope, no more! Fair's fair, I think I should get to examine your ink now!”

 

She looked at him with wide eyes, her heart pounding and her core aching from the pressure of his body pressed against the scalding hot area between her legs. “But I don't have any…”

 

“Well I'll have to draw some of my own, I guess,” he said with a mischievous grin.

 

Very soon, as he used the tips of his fingers and eventually his tongue to trace the myriad of invisible tattoos he said she had ‘hidden’ on her skin, in increasingly sensitive places, it was her turn to squirm, giggle, and beg for relief.

 

\---------------------------------------------------

 

Daylight was bright in the tent when Hermione opened her eyes, smiling upon waking for the first time in months. She looked over at Theo, fast asleep at her side and felt a tingle of happiness. She hadn't felt this way in a long time, just content and at peace.

 

There was a nagging part of her that said she had something unpleasant to do, however, and that it would be best to get it over with as soon as possible. She swallowed hard against the knot of fear in her throat.

 

Quietly she dressed, spelling a note for Theo to find when he woke, and then slipped out of the tent. The autumn sun was above the horizon as she stretched and yawned widely. She ran through the wet grass to the tent she shared with Luna--though she hadn’t yet spent any time in it--finding the blonde woman curled up inside, asleep. She tiptoed through the spacious interior till she reached her bag, grabbing her wash things and a clean dress before turning to leave.

 

Luna was stood in the entranceway of the tent, smiling at her, and the brunette gave a cry as her heart jumped. “Gods, Luna… I thought you were asleep…”

 

“No,” the blonde witch said with a distracted look, “I didn’t sleep all night.”

 

Hermione smiled sadly. “Look, about last night… I’m sorry I snapped at you.”

 

“It’s okay,” she said with a shrug. ”I knew that when you said that you weren’t trying to hurt me, but were both upset and elated by your spirit journey, and also the kiss you had finally received from Theo Nott. Plus I thought I felt a wrackspurt floating around you, so that possibly had something to do with why you weren’t thinking clearly.”

 

Hermione looked at the floor, a small blush gracing her face.

 

“You have a pretty blush, Hermione,” Luna said dreamily. “I like seeing it.”

 

Hermione smiled, cheeks burning brighter. “Luna…” she said, quietly. Clearing her throat she looked at her friend. “I was horrible to you, and I am sorry.”

 

Luna skipped the couple of steps to Hermione, a happy smile on her face and her hair bouncing. The older witch shook her head with a wry smile at her friend.  _ The woman can never just walk, even if it’s five feet… I’d look ridiculous if I did that, but her… I think she’d look ridiculous if she didn’t. _

 

“The breeze does not apologise to the bird when it blows it off course, Hermione.” She rested a soft hand against the taller witch's cheek, her thumb gently stroking. “Nor should you apologise to me. I had hoped that our friendship was stronger than that...”

 

“Of course it is, Luna! You are a true friend to me. I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you!”

 

Luna clapped her hands excitedly, a beaming smile gracing her face. “I'm so pleased!” She placed her arms around Hermione's neck and hugged her.

 

The older witch was acutely aware of the slim witch's body pressed against hers, the blonde hair filling her vision and her nose with the scent of flowers. Her breath ghosted over Hermione's neck and she felt a shiver chase through her.

 

Luna giggled prettily. “I wish I could see that blush on your face but I'm enjoying the hug too much, so I'll just have to imagine.”

 

Hermione grimaced a little, not knowing how Luna knew she was blushing again. It was endearing but also very frustrating. She also couldn't work out  _ why _ she was blushing. Maybe it was the simple way the quirky witch spoke to her, the slight flirting, the gentle touches. “You forgive far too easily, Luna,” she said quietly.

 

“You need to feel happy,” the blonde witch murmured. “You have to do something very difficult today and you need to keep a positive attitude.”

 

“How did you know…?” Hermione frowned, annoyed at Luna’s seeming knowledge of something that she hadn’t told anyone of yet. It didn’t seem right to her to tell anyone about her journey before she told Ron, and she was dreading that confrontation.

 

Luna looked at the older witch, a soft smile filled with sympathy gracing her face. “I can just tell. You’re tense, despite a no doubt pleasant sleep.” Her smile turned a little lascivious and Hermione flushed again, which caused the younger witch to laugh.

 

“Stop teasing me,” Hermione muttered.

 

Luna pouted. “But it’s so much fun!” The younger woman grinned, tapping Hermione on the tip of her nose with her finger. “Boop!” With a tinkling laugh she skipped out of the tent calling over her shoulder, “He’s prowling around near the centre of the festival, possibly sampling Hagrid’s moonshine!”

 

“She booped me…” Hermione whispered to herself, touching wondering fingers to her face. “She actually said ‘boop’!” Shaking her head with a exasperated huff, she left the tent and made her way to the latrine area to wash and change.

 

\---------------------------------------------------

 

The festival was in full swing towards the centre, with music, dancing, cooking, displays, lessons. Hermione kept her head down, trying to make her way through the crowd of witches and wizards, while keeping an eye out for a head of red hair. A couple of false sightings slowed her and she had a brief chat with Arthur and Molly about the ritual. She felt a desire to tell them everything but Ron had the most right to know it first. She said as much to the Weasley elders, and they agreed.

 

“Absolutely, dear!” said Molly. “It is right that Ron know first, but… come back and tell us after, if you would? I would dearly love to know how Rose is.”

 

“I will… I promise! I can tell you that she is fine… looked after in fact… Fred’s spirit is with her. He's taken it upon himself to be her guardian.”

 

Arthur smiled and hugged her with one arm. “Then she's in good hands.”

 

They left her then to continue her search but she was soon accosted by George who leapt out at her from behind a stall.

 

“Will you two stop trying to scare me every time you see me!” she cried, slapping his chest before hugging him tightly.

 

“'You two’?” he asked. “You seeing shadows now, woman?” He laughed, but there was a slight tightness around his eyes, as there always was when Fred came up in conversation.

 

“No,” she said hurriedly, “no, sorry George! I… I saw Fred, during the ritual.”

 

“You did!? You got to speak to speak to him? How is he?” He laughed as she recounted her meeting with his twin, grew somber when she described the wound he carried at all times, and a light of pride appeared in his eyes as she told how he was defending Rose's spirit. “That's my brother! The girl was a Weasley, so she'll always be family.”

 

“George…” she said, hesitantly. “I need to find Ron, have you seen him?” At his nod she continued, “I don't know how… I don't know how to tell him what I learned… I feel so guilty and I'm not sure…”

 

“Hey,” he said, pulling her close. “It'll be fine. I know it's not going to be easy. He acted like a dick, but I've spoken to him too, and he really wants things to be right between you two.”

 

“But what if he hates me even more,” she whispered.

 

He knelt down, holding her hands and looking seriously at her. “Whatever you have to say to him, whatever the truth of the matter is… he will listen and he will understand. Something tells me that it'll be alright.” He gave a small laugh. “Maybe it's Fred, but there's just this little feeling I have… No matter what, Ron loves you and still wants you as his friend. Even if your marriage is over, he still wants to have the girl he grew up with in his life. You went through so much together, and he doesn't want to lose you forever.”

 

She smiled sadly, her eyes damp. “I hope he will understand, George. I…”

 

“Don't say another word,” he admonished, “you go find him and talk to him first. We'll all get to hear about it eventually, I'm sure.”

 

She nodded sadly and sighed. “I want to tell you all, just completely clear the air.”

 

He nodded. “But Ron first.”

 

“Ron first,” she agreed.

 

It took her another hour to find Ron, but when she did he was exactly where Luna had told her he’d be, which made her roll her eyes slightly.  _ How does she do that? It was an hour and more since I spoke to her, there’s no way he’s been there all this time! _

 

He stumbled to his feet when he saw her, cutting off his conversation with Hagrid abruptly. His face lit up, but there was worry in his eyes too. Before she could say anything she was enveloped in the huge arms of her favourite Keeper of the Keys and Gamekeeper.

 

“‘Ullo, ‘ermione! It’s good to see ya!” The half giant’s eyes twinkled merrily as he hugged her tightly and she gasped out a greeting, the breath temporarily squeezed from her. “Sorry! Sorry,” he muttered as she wheezed out his name.

 

Released then she turned towards Ron, who was standing aside, fidgeting nervously. She gave him a small smile, which he returned after a moment. They both opened their mouths to speak at the same time, then laughed quietly.

 

A giant hand landed on each of their shoulders, Hagrid beaming down at the pair of them. “So good to see ya both talkin’ again!” he declared. “Young love ‘an all that… uh… well…” He stumbled slightly, seeing them both looking at him. Ron nodded his head away and Hermione smiled awkwardly, but there was still a long moment before Hagrid got the hint and lifted his hands away as if burned. “Oh! Oh right, yes! Talking… you need, uh… Need to be alone, o’ course! Welcome to use my tent if ya want, my casa is Sue’s casa, an’ all that... “ He looked at them proudly and confided, “Olympe’s been teachin’ me some French!”

 

“Thanks, Hagrid,” Ron said, pointedly dismissing the gamekeeper, and rolling his eyes at Hermione when the big man didn’t move.

 

The brunette sighed. “Hagrid…”

 

“Oh right! ‘Scuse me…” He turned and hurried away, leaving the pair in uncomfortable silence as they watched the half-giant go into his tent. After a moment he came bursting back out again. “Sorry, said you could use that, didn’t I? I’ll just go over ‘ere…” and he rapidly walked off into the festival, barrelling through the crowd and scattering people out of his path in his haste with a chorus of “Sorry! ‘Scuse me!! Sorry, ma’am…”

 

The pair watched his progress for a moment before looking at each other. They both gave a snigger of laughter that trailed off into another awkward silence. Hermione took a deep breath and said, “Can we…” indicating the tent with her head, arms wrapped around her body.

 

“Sure!” Ron said, tension in every line of him though he smiled at her, that familiar smile tugging at her heart.

 

She quickly turned and went into the tent, trying to keep a tight grip on her emotions. Her heart was pounding and her chest hurt with fear at what she was about to say. She heard Ron enter a moment later and closed her eyes, feeling them burn with unshed tears.

 

“I’m… I’m sorry about yesterday…” he said, quietly. She could hear him shuffling his feet on the dry ground. “I didn’t mean to harass you. Trelawney chewed me out pretty well… I felt like a student again.” There was another silence and she could hear him scratch his head. “Hermione…”

 

“You were right,” she sobbed and instantly bit her lip.

 

“I was?”

 

She nodded, still not looking at him, knowing that it would destroy her to see his hurt and confused face. “I found Rose… last night…” Tears trickled slowly down her cheeks and she drew a shuddering breath. “I spoke to her, and I saw the truth of what happened… had to relive it all over again…”

 

“Hermione…”

 

“No, Ron, please don’t say anything.” She waved her hands in front of herself, breathing in deeply to try and control the tears. Inside she cursed herself at such a weak gesture.  _ Honestly, Hermione, fanning your eyes is not helping! _ Her hands clenched into fists and she spat the poisonous words out before they stuck in her throat. “I killed Rose… I did it, I drowned our baby… Ron, I’m so sorry!” Unable to stand any longer she sank to her knees, head in her hands, sobs wracking her slim frame.

 

For the longest time she wasn’t aware of anything else, couldn’t hear him, didn’t know if he was saying anything. She half expected to see, if she turned around, that he had left. She wouldn’t blame him if he had. It was some time before she was able to look around. Ron was stood near the entrance to the tent, facing away, head bowed. His hand was lifted as if to push aside the tent flap and leave, but he had stopped. She sniffed, wiping her nose on one of Hagrid’s huge hankies that was nearby. She used the rest of it to mop at her eyes and then stood, facing him. He must have heard her moving because he started to speak.

 

“I never truly wanted to believe it. Never wanted to accept what you told me that night… and when you denied it afterwards, there was a part of me that thought I really had made it up… But I had been so certain… so angry.” He turned and she braced herself for him to unleash his fury on her. “What really happened, Hermione? What made you do it?”

 

His voice was quiet, but there was no anger in it. She took a hesitant step towards him. “I don’t think I know how to tell you in a way you would believe…” She considered her words, aware that he was tense; he was stock still, like a statue. “Do you remember how you felt when you came home? Towards the end, before… before Rose died?”

 

“I remember hating it,” he shrugged, “we were always arguing about something, or Rose was upset or had played mum or George up. Nothing felt… good anymore. There was always a feeling that something bad was going to happen.”

 

She was nodding, a light in her eyes as he confirmed what she had felt too. “Exactly! We never spoke about it, did we… but it was always there? I know what it was now… there was a dark spirit watching us, messing with us. She wanted us tense, afraid, angry… She wanted Rose’s spirit. It was Bellatrix.”

 

“What?” His voice was surprised, angry. “Lestrange? What was she, like a ghost?”

 

“I don’t completely understand it all myself… It wasn't Bellatrix, per se… All spirits are turned out multiple times and retain an element of all the lives they've lived.” Without meaning to her voice had adopted it's familiar lecturing tone, and Ron grinned despite himself. She blushed, realising what she was doing and shrugged apologetically.

 

“It's okay, Hermione. You wouldn't be you if you weren't teaching someone.” He was still tense, but hearing those words helped her relax a little.

 

“She… the spirit whose last life was as Bellatrix, she was a dark entity, trying to feed on spirits that were new, that she could use to fuel her own power. Rose was such a spirit, brand new, had never been born till she came to us. Bellatrix wanted to get her back into the spirit world in order to use her power for herself… She tricked me, made me see things… made me think that I was… that I was protecting Rose, but in reality... “

 

“You killed her, giving Bellatrix exactly what she wanted.”

 

She nodded sadly, unable to meet his eyes. She tried to speak but her throat was filled with grief and hurt all over again. Through tear filled eyes she saw him move, expecting him to leave, expecting him to shout, to hit her. She wouldn't blame him, couldn't blame him if he did. She deserved this, deserved to be shunned, ridiculed, vilified. What she had done, she still believed in her heart, was unforgivable.

 

Then he was stood before her, lifting her chin and bringing her gaze to his. His blue eyes were filled with pain and tears, tracks visible on his cheeks and he looked like he was holding onto his grief by his fingernails. “I believe you,” he whispered.

 

The words broke through her reserve and she gave a sob, flinging her arms around his neck. He pulled her close, burying his face in her hair, letting his tears flow, letting them wash away the hurt and anger he had been carrying for the last two years. She sobbed into the crook of his neck, the pair of them giving in to it all, just letting it flow through them. Those three words, so small, so insignificant against everything that had happened, they meant so much. Together they sank to the floor, holding each other, each keeping the other from falling apart, both relieved, cleansed, feeling that healing could be possible from this terrible event.


	6. Chapter 6

Theo stared into the fire outside his tent once more.

 

It was dark, the autumnal sun having set an hour ago. Hermione had arrived back at his tent with a bright smile and had kissed him, hard. She had done something amazing in Theo's eyes; she had faced possibly the toughest test of her life in confessing everything to Ron and his family. The Weasley's had been shocked, upset, as you would expect. But they had accepted what she had to say, been grateful for the honesty. Ron had stood by her, lending his voice to hers, and the family had reconnected. She had left them then, making her excuses and letting them bond again. Arthur and Molly had been beside themselves with happiness at Ron's return and George had welcomed his brother back too. Only Ginny had been conspicuous by her absence, storming out shortly after Hermione's tale and her family's acceptance of it. Clearly she had not felt the warm fuzzy glow of familial love in her heart. Theo surmised that that one would never forgive and vowed to watch out for her… Then he had realised what he was saying was ridiculous.

 

He had laid awake, long after Hermione slept. He enjoyed the feeling of the witch tucked against his side, her body warm against his. His thoughts had been in turmoil though and midnight was still an hour or two away. He knew she would have to awaken soon and prepare for tonight's ritual, but couldn’t sleep, so had gently disentangled himself from her, slipped on his jeans and t-shirt, and stole outside.

 

The flames were not providing any answers though. He felt like shit, which was unusual. He had done what he always did on jobs like this; he had lied to her, manipulated her, reached past the pain and enabled her to see the strong and sexual woman she could be once more. He had been very convincing while doing it, but then he always was.  _ The problem is, _ he thought,  _ this hasn't been exactly as simple as any of the others. Sleeping with her had not been part of the plan… Feelings should have had no place in this. So what went wrong? _

 

With a soft fluttering of wings, a large regal owl dropped down beside him, hopping over and presenting its leg. A letter was tied to it, Malfoy's seal visible.

 

With a grimace the wizard removed the parchment, ignoring the owl as it hooted softly and flapped away.

 

The letter was short, to the point. Annoyance surged through the dark haired wizard and he balled the paper up and tossed it into the fire, grabbed his trainers and stalked away. He had been summoned, and like a good little contractor he obeyed, he thought with a growl. He'd have to sort this out later.  _ God's what a mess! _

 

Behind him the ball of paper, singed slightly but not burned, rolled out of the flames again, little wisps of smoke drifting upwards.

 

\---------------------------------------------------

 

The tent was cool and dark, and she just lay there for a moment. Her body ached in wonderful ways and she was reluctant to move too much just yet, but there was a deeper reason to her stillness. She had felt him stir and leave the tent a short while ago but had stayed still, faking sleep for the moment. Their lovemaking had been passionate, thrilling, and she had been lost in the feel of his body against hers, his mouth, his hands.

 

There had been something in those moments though that had caught her attention, despite her enjoyment, something that she put aside for the time being, determining to examine it later.

 

He was holding back. She didn't know what, didn't understand why she felt that was the case, but she could tell that something wasn't right. Theo had demons that he was hiding and they were eating him alive. He was a puzzle that she wanted to unlock, to understand, and she thought that she could fall for him. Hard.

 

The soft sound of his footsteps came to her and she sat up then, wondering where he was going this late. She felt a twinge of loss and gave herself a wry smile. Missing him already when it's only been seconds since he left. But  _ why _ did he leave?

 

“ _ Lumos, _ ” she whispered, illuminating the tent and finding her dress, hastily throwing it on before stepping outside. She stood for a moment, shivering in the chill air, looking around. The fire burned cheerily, and there was a small ball of parchment, singed and smoking nearby. Plucking it from the ground she unfolded it and read the short note quickly. Her heart gave a heavy thump, a knot forming in her chest.

 

“Good job with Granger. Your usual fee is ready. Come now for your payment, before tonight's ritual. L.”

 

Malfoy. Hermione felt her eyes burn and her stomach clenched suddenly. What did this mean? It couldn't mean what it looked like! She didn't want to believe it, didn't want to acknowledge the betrayal before her eyes. Why?

 

Narcissa's words to her at last night's ritual rang in her mind again, the feelings they had evoked, the man that had been brought to mind, but also the moment she had heard those words before. At the time she had been unable to grasp the ephemeral threads that had tangled in her mind, but now, in the cold night air she could examine them fully.

 

Breathing heavily, fighting the tears that threatened, she ducked back inside the tent. She dug through Theo's bag, ignoring the minimal belongings within until she found the small music player he had used yesterday. The music within had helped to awaken her again, to make her feel. Was it all a lie?

 

Dread filled her as she switched it on and began to cycle through the myriad of songs held on it. A small cry escaped her as she found what she was looking for. 'Be Still and Know’ the display read, the words said during the ritual… she remembered this song. Theo had said that it was about loss, pain, and rising above it because no pain can last forever. Yesterday, in the bright sunshine and excitement of budding romance, the song had seemed an anthem. Tonight though...

 

She placed the earbuds in her ears, turning Malfoy's note over and holding her wand ready. She remembered that the words were not all that easy to pick out, but she had a suspicion which ones she would hear clearly. She pressed play, listening to the song again, trying to keep the thoughts of sunshine and laughter out of her mind and focus on writing whatever she could make out.

 

Six minutes later she looked down at the parchment as though through water, tears trickling down her face and her heart in pieces on the floor of the tent. 

 

_ Are we dead or alive, Freedom, not existence, survive, forever, incandescent, against the wall, the sun will rise, dawn will break through blackest night, be still and know, even just for a moment, together, look into each other's eyes, make the connection before it dies, take this hate, let the bile stagnate _

 

There it was… Narcissa had spoken most of those words to her, those and others. Theo had played her that song, emphasising its message to her. Everything she thought she had gained… everything Theo had seemed to offer her… it had all been a lie! The Malfoys, Lucius and Narcissa both! They really  _ had _ put Theo up to this, and she was just a job to him. He had been there just to make her feel again so that the ritual could succeed!

 

Anger began to override the pain of loss. Hurt at the lies. Fury at the betrayal.

 

With a shriek of rage she hurled the music box away. Snatching up her wand she flung aside the tent flap and stormed out, heading for Malfoy's tent.

 

\---------------------------------------------------

 

The chill air cooled her blood very little, and her palm was bleeding from the pressure of her fingernails by the time she came in sight of the grand edifice that was the Malfoy's home away from home. She stomped towards it, intending on bursting in and demanding answers, when she heard voices from within. They were clear, Theo and Lucius.

 

“So, young man. A job well done, again! I must commend you though, I had doubts that even  _ you _ could wake Miss Granger’s desire once more. Her fire seemed quite dead when I last saw her before the festival!”

 

“Well, I guess I'm just that good, aren't I?”

 

Lucius gave a laugh, a note of aggravation in it at Theo’s tone. “Yes, well… As I said, your usual fee is in that envelope. Plus expenses, of course. Don't spend it all at once mind!”

 

Hermione staggered and only managed to stay upright thanks to a nearby bench. She had known it, strongly suspected it really… but there it was, naked and unavoidable truth, slapping her in the face!

 

She turned to go, all of the fight draining out of her at that moment. She staggered a few steps, unable to see through the tears that blinded her, when soft familiar arms caught hold of her. Pale skin and hair enveloped her sight and she collapsed into Luna's arms. The blonde witch stroked her head, humming soothingly to her as she cried.

 

“I'm such an idiot,” she wailed, “why did I let myself believe him, Luna?”

 

“Faith in a person is something we must all have, otherwise we'd never trust anyone.”

 

“But it was all so… so  _ perfect _ !”

 

Luna nodded, understanding what she meant: not that Theo was perfect, that she had been fooled so easily, and manipulated into believing his bullshit. The younger witch stiffened abruptly and began to try and pull Hermione away. “Come on, we need to go.”

 

There was an urgency in her voice that the brunette had rarely heard and she looked up, dashing the tears from her eyes and spinning around.

 

Theo was walking towards her. His face was set in a worried expression as he saw her distress. “Hermione… are you okay?”

 

As Luna clucked her tongue in annoyance the older witch pulled away from her. “Am I okay? No, Theo. No, I am not okay!” Her voice was rising and there was nothing she could do to stop it. She shook off Luna's hands as they tried to pull her away again. “You lied to me! Didn't you!?” His mouth opened and closed silently, but she didn't give him time to feed her any more lies. “You damn bastard, you used me! Made me feel something for you! And for what? A fucking envelope of Malfoy's money?”

 

Her slap rocked his head to the side, his cheek instantly flaring red. “It wasn't like that!” he cried, but she hit him again.

 

“I HEARD YOU! Talking to Malfoy about a job well fucking done! Just admit it and save your lies for someone else!”

 

“Alright! It's true, okay!” Theo held up a hand to stave off another slap, but Hermione's arms were wrapped around her body, knuckles white. “Malfoy, Narcissa… they wanted to make sure the ritual would work, to make sure you could see Rose. They wanted me to talk to you, told me to flirt, to make you feel alive again…”

 

“Oh, you did that  _ very  _ well, didn't you? Good little legal eagle, making Malfoy’s problems go away? Got yourself a nice little bonus too by getting me to sleep with you!”

 

“No! That's not the case at all! It wasn't meant to go that far…”

 

“Just saw an opportunity I guess? The poor broken woman needs something from you and you don't have the decency to keep your dick under control? To tell her it’s all a farce?”

 

“Hermione, I  _ wanted _ to sleep with you…”

 

“Yeah, I bet…” She tossed her head angrily. “Well good for you! You got what you wanted, didn't you?”

 

He raised his voice, angry now himself. “Yes, this started out as just a job, but I got more than I bargained for this time!” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I'm not meant to get attached to the mark… but I did. Merlin save me, I'm falling for you, Hermione.”

 

She stared at him, her emotions in turmoil. She wanted to believe him, wanted to think the best of him, that he truly cared for her. It would explain his slightly withdrawn behaviour earlier; he had been wrestling with the dilemma of whether to tell her. He knew she was likely to react badly to the revelation that the reason for their meeting had been a lie, but the feelings generated had been genuine.

 

“Please…” He took a hesitant step towards her, his eyes pleading. “Hermione, I never meant to hurt you. I was going to tell you, I swear it…”

 

_ Yes _ , she thought to herself,  _ I want to believe him so much it hurts. _ The logical part of her brain overrode her heart however, telling her that it was just more lies, and even if there was a chance it was true... “How many other women have you lied to and bedded on Malfoy's orders?” 

 

The question surprised him but before he could answer she turned and walked quickly away, Luna holding onto her arm. The blonde witch pointed her wand at him as he moved to follow, her big blue eyes filled with anger. He subsided reluctantly, watching them go, his heart heavy.

 

“You piece of shit snake!”

 

Theo turned at the voice, seeing the balled up fist too late. The powerful haymaker spun him, almost lifting him off his feet, and he stumbled backwards, his knees striking a bench and sending him down. His back caught the edge and a blinding pain lanced through him as he fell to the floor. He started to stand, his spine screaming in protest but Ron didn’t let him, his foot catching Theo in the gut, propelling him up and depositing him on the bench seat. His breath burst from him and he found himself retching and gasping, unable to breathe for a moment. He felt rather than saw the next punch coming but was unable to do anything to defend himself. Agony lanced through his head as it was bounced off of the bench, caught between Ron’s fist and the wood.

 

“Enough! Ron, enough!!”

 

Theo’s ears were ringing from the second impact, dazed and unable to see straight, but he recognised Potter’s voice. Blood dripped onto his hand as he held it under his nose. There was scuffling nearby and guessed that The Chosen One had stepped in to save him. The thought would have made him laugh in other circumstances.

 

“Get off me, Harry! You heard what he did!”

 

“I know! I heard. But kicking his head in won’t change anything!”

 

“It’d make me feel a lot fucking better!”

 

“Ron! Stand down! STAND DOWN!”

 

There was more but Theo was having trouble staying conscious. His vision blurred alarmingly and his stomach surged. He swallowed hard, trying to force it back into quiescence. He had had no idea that Ron could hit so hard and mentally re-evaluated his opinion of the young Auror; he was not someone to trifle with. He was aware of someone pulling him upright.

 

“Draco, leave him be, he might have a concussion. Get Amber.”

 

Gentle but firm hands lifted his head and he saw a slowly steadying image of Draco's worried face. “Shit, Weasley, I think you've broken his face!”

 

“Good!” Ron yelled, “If Harry would get out of my damn way I'll break his neck for him too!”

 

“Potter, get him the fuck out of here and calm him down, before I arrest him for assault!”

 

Theo saw Ron storm off, Harry sticking close beside him. He tried to talk, unable to see out of his left eye, but the pain in his jaw stopped him with a growling moan.

 

“Sit quiet, mate, medi-witch is on the way.” Draco held his shoulder making sure he didn't move.

 

“Sucker punch…” Theo managed, turning his head and spitting a mouthful of blood.

 

His friend laughed, “Yeah, I saw, but you should have reacted quicker. Learn to duck next time!”

 

“Fucking Weasley, ahh shit…” He winced as the effort of talking sent a stabbing pain through his skull.

 

“Hey, he might be an arse but you fucked up first. How the hell did you screw this up so badly? You never let them know your game.”

 

“Sloppy… not thinkin’ straight” He leant back, trying to focus on anything but the pain in his face and gut. The only other thing he was aware of was the pain in his heart. “Didn't mean to fall for her, Draco. Wanted to tell her… before she found out like this…”

 

His friend shook his head. “Damn it, Nott… I wish you had told me this was a job beforehand… I thought you were just here for the festival and happened to be getting lucky! I’d have had some advice to give you if I’d known! Simple job and you have to go and let your feelings get involved.”

 

“She's different… She genuinely seemed to care.”

 

“That's the problem, old friend. I think she really did. I have no idea what she would have said if you had told her. Guarantee she would still be angry, but maybe you wouldn't have a fucked up eyeball for your trouble!”

 

“I can't see out of it…”

 

“Doesn't surprise me,” Draco said, with a grin, “it's a damn mess. Weasley isn’t a spindly kid anymore!”

 

Theo gave a grunt of pained laughter. “Yeah, I noticed.” A thought occurred to him, something Harry had said before he left. “Who’s Amber?

 

“Okay, Mr Malfoy,” said a female voice, all business, “I've got him from here, if you'll step out of the way please? Mr Nott? I’m Amber, Amber Michaels.”

 

Theo saw a blurry image of a woman kneel in front of him, tutting at whatever it was she saw. She held his head with a firm but gentle hand. “I don’t know how much I’m going to be able to do for you here. I think we’ll have go to St Mungo’s and get you looked at properly. I’ll do what I can for now to ease the pain till a car arrives for you. Mr Malfoy, would you be a dear and tell my darling boyfriend to discuss things with Mr Weasley… in case my patient decides to press charges?” Her voice left Theo under no illusions over Amber’s opinion of Ron’s actions. 

 

Draco smirked. “I’m sure your darling Mr Potter will be delighted to tell Weaselby all the trouble he might be in, especially if I can convince Nott to take things further!”

 

Theo gave up trying to follow the conversation. Soon the witch’s wand was sinking healing magic into him and he just sat back, trying to work out what to do now.

 

\---------------------------------------------------

 

“You are not accompanied, my dear, I thought we said the plan was…”

 

“Change the plan then,” Hermione interrupted, quietly. There was an undertone of anger in her voice as she looked at Narcissa. The older witch merely raised an eyebrow at her and Hermione felt a shiver of anger run through her.  _ Was that something Malfoys learned at birth or marriage? How to lift an eyebrow with just the right level of sarcastic surprise to make you feel like smacking them in the mouth? _

 

“Very well,” the blonde witch said with a small smile. “Lucius shall join me, as he did last night, and you shall have control from the start. The circle will channel their power into you and you shall be the one to draw Bellatrix’s spirit here and trap her. It makes sense as she is connected to you, though neither of you relish that bond. Ensure that your weave is strong, she is not someone to be underestimated!”

 

With an economy of motion Narcissa signalled the others into position, Lucius stepping forward to join her. Hermione was conscious of every eye in the cave trained upon her, watching, waiting. She swallowed nervously, but a bubble of fear and anger rested in her breast, pulsing in time with her heart. She met Narcissa’s eyes once more and there was a light in her eyes that struck her: Amusement.

 

The anger surged within her then, drowning her fear of public speaking, her reservations about being once more in a circle of people she knew, about to partake in more sex magic; the shyness she had felt the night before was gone, purged from her by both the awakening of her sexuality and the crushing of her heart, both at the hands of the same man.

 

She struggled to keep her voice level as she spoke. “Friends, we come together tonight to right a wrong… to purge an evil from our hearts, and from the land beyond the veil. The creature once known as Bellatrix Lestrange walks the spirit world, feeding on the energy of the good and the pure, her plan being to increase her power when it comes her time to once more walk the earth as a being of flesh.”

 

Hermione could see the determination in the eyes of her friends, those she called family, their loved ones. George leant close to his wife, Angelina, and whispered something with a smirk in his face. She laughed but shook her head with an exasperated look, elbowing him in the ribs; Draco stood with Astoria on the opposite side of the circle to his parents; Luna and Seamus, faces filled with determination, were there too and Hermione smiled at her blonde friend; the elder Weasleys, fresh faced and happy at the return of their son, beamed at her and Arthur gave her a small thumbs up; and her best friend, who had been there for her for as long as she could remember, nodded encouragingly, his arms wrapped around Amber.

 

Hermione was pleased to have had a chance to talk with her before the ritual, to begin to get to know her. Amber told her that the pair of them had first met on one of Harry's frequent trips to St Mungo's for healing. He had begun to seek her out on subsequent visits. “Trying to flirt with me in his adorable way,” the medi-witch had said, stroking Harry's face lovingly.

 

Hermione had laughed, putting a hand on his shoulder and mock grimacing at the dark haired woman. “It's a bit awkward, isn't it? I've seen some of his attempts in the past…”

 

“Oi!” Harry had cried, “I’ll have you know I was a regular Casanova, me! Smooth! Like…”

 

“Like sugar!” George had shouted.

 

“Yeah, like… Hey!”

 

Hermione had laughed at Harry's offended face, draping her arm around his shoulders. “But he is sweet like sugar!”

 

“I've noticed this,” Amber had said, looking up at Harry and batting her eyelashes at him.

 

Now Hermione shared a smile with the young witch, feeling nothing but confidence and love flowing from every person there. Closing her eyes Hermione held out her arms, beginning to draw her magic from her centre and out to the tip of each finger, her toes, to every point furthest from her heart. She allowed it to fill the cave, wielding it carefully to touch everyone there. She heard the others lift their voices in a chant, the words once more washing over her but not penetrating her mind. She gathered the threads of magic, wrapping them into a net of power that pulsed in time with her heart.

 

Around the circle the partners embraced, their love and passion for the other beginning to build itself into the weave she was creating, their magic strengthening it. As their energy built, as they each neared climax, Hermione continued to weave, calling out to the spirits to aid her in finding her quarry. Around her she heard the panting moans and cries of ecstasy, felt the pulsing of the magic as first one, then another, then another orgasmed, the full force of their magic being propelled through her. She was unable to keep her eyes open, the erotic force sliding sensuously over her nerves stimulated every part of her. She felt her own body respond to it, her nipples tight and she knew she was wet, balancing on a knife edge.

 

She felt a new respect for Narcissa's skill then as the weave trembled under the weight of so much power. She struggled to maintain her grip on it as it bucked, threatening to unravel as another surge of energy leapt forward. She gave a low, keening sob as the threads began to pull away, holding on with everything she had. It was taking all her strength and concentration to keep a grip and she had no way of weaving, couldn't focus on creating the pattern she needed.

 

Soft hands touched hers then. The skin was cool and confident, and its strength bolstered hers. “Do not fight it,” Luna whispered, “it is a living thing. It needs to grow… let it live… let it breathe…”

 

The brunette was able to feel every part of Luna, her thoughts, her soul, and the connection was like electricity. Luna's love for Hermione poured into her, guiding her and helping her to relax.

 

The weave completed with a sudden snap of crackling fire that lanced through the circle like a bolt of lightning. There were cries of shock and groans that spoke of deep pain, but everyone's determination held fast.

 

With a sudden scream that stood Hermione's hair on end Bellatrix streaked out of the shadows and lunged straight for her. She struck the weave full centre, the magical threads contracting violently to ensnare her in their sparkling embrace.

 

The spirit landed in the centre of the circle, the shockwave knocking everyone off their feet. It was some moments before Hermione could move, laying still and panting on the cave floor. She looked around swiftly, checking everyone was okay; Harry stood over Amber's unconscious form; Luna was lifting Seamus' head into her lap, stroking his face gently and wiping blood from his nose, her own face streaked with blood that flowed from a cut on her scalp; Arthur and Molly were down, but still breathing and she could feel their magic within her; the others were in shock, staring at the centre. Only Narcissa and Lucius appeared calm to Hermione's eyes, though their magic quivered with an unknowable emotion. She looked up in horror at the creature before her, draped in threads of shimmering magic.

 

“You dare to bring me forth, Mudblood?” Bellatrix spat. Her knife was drawn and she lunged forward. The net held, flexing alarmingly as she strained against it. The blade of her knife slid along one of the threads and Hermione watched in horror as it began to fray under the sharp edge. Angelina gave a whimper of pain, gritting her teeth against the spirit’s assault on her. George hugged her close and Hermione saw the blade repelled from the weave, the thread repairing itself. “You have no idea what you are doing, you stupid girl!”

 

“But I do, foul spirit,” Narcissa said, walking slowly forwards. “You have been brought here for judgement, for trial, and for purging. Too long has your soul caused naught but pain and suffering. Tonight that ends!”

 

The wild haired spirit laughed, high and cackling. “Cissy, Cissy, Cissy, darling sister. You have knowledge, maybe, but you do not have control of the web that binds me.” She swung her gaze to Hermione, her eyes lidded. “This one does, and the weave is weaker for her inclusion… Dirty blood tainting an ancient rite.”

 

“Hermione Granger has the most stake in this,  _ sister _ . Her strength is more than even you can handle.”

 

Bellatrix grinned, rotting teeth black in her mouth. A tongue, long and scarred, licked across her lips. “Then let us see if your faith is well founded, shall we?”

 

A wave of sickening fear swept over Hermione, Bellatrix's dark soul bearing down on her. Her eyes were opened wide, teeth bared in a snarling grin and one broken and blackened fingernail raked across the web, plucking at it. As each silken thread shook it pulled at the heart of those in the circle, testing their magic. Pain lanced through each of them as Bellatrix tested the weave, pushing harder and harder against it. The cave was still, almost silent but for the grunts of pain and effort as the circle struggled to repel the dark assault.

 

“Hermione…” Narcissa gasped, sweat standing in her brow as she slowly sank to her knees, “...you must… control…”

 

With a hiss Bellatrix slashed with her knife, a jumping silver thread of magic between her fingers. The thread sprang asunder, whipping and snapping like a broken elastic band through the web, parting itself from the matrix of power and Narcissa gave a cry. The older witch collapsed to the floor and lay still.

 

Hermione felt the structure trembling as Narcissa's magic shuddered and died. It buckled in her hands, fighting to escape her grasp. Her teeth gritted against the fear that surged through her, she gathered her feet beneath her and began to rise, her hair crackling with the power swelling within the cave.

 

“Twelve little magic users remain,” sang Bellatrix, her voice croaking with hate. Her face was pressed against the web, trying to squeeze through the gap left by the broken thread. “Who will you let fall next, Mudblood?”

 

Hermione fought to hold onto the construct, feeling it slipping slowly from her control. The terrible fear rose in her throat as she met the eyes of Lucius, his eyes filled with anger. His magic was strong within the weave still, but she worried that he would withdraw now. Tears stood in her eyes as she glanced at Narcissa, trying to see if she lived, or if the spirit's cut had done more than unravel her connection to the net.

 

“Silly little witch! This circle should be strong enough to have crushed me already! It is your magic that is dragging it down… YOU are to blame for every one who falls!” Bellatrix licked the strands of power, a shudder of distaste running through everyone present as their magic was violated.

 

Hermione felt her legs tremble under the pressure, struggling to maintain her grip. She caught Luna's eye and the blonde witch smiled at her, a familiar dreamy look on her face. The blonde stood, moving around the circle with graceful steps that almost seemed like a dance, completely at ease with her nakedness in the firelight. “Nobody casts blame here… feel the magic, Hermione, and you will see. There is nothing but love.”

 

Bellatrix laughed, snagging a thread of magic from the tangle that surrounded her, fixing the blue eyed witch with a terrible stare. “See how you feel when she lets  _ your _ magic fall!” She stabbed with the knife but at the last moment Luna seemed to sway and her magic followed suit, rippling aside from the wicked edge, curling gracefully around it before settling back into place, away from Bellatrix's grasping hand.

 

Luna smiled warmly at Hermione, ignoring Bellatrix entirely. “Thank you,” she said, ignoring Hermione’s blank look.

 

With a snarl the dark spirit slashed at Luna’s magic again, the bright thread flowing aside once more. It was then that Hermione felt it within her, her wish for Luna to escape harm, to be safe, the slight twist she made in her mind to ensure that Luna’s magic was simply not where the blade struck. The simple defence matched the blonde’s personality perfectly, gracefully skipping aside. She felt Bellatrix’s frustration flow through the edge of the weave as the dark spirit grabbed another thread, Harry’s magic, striking fast in order to snap it before Hermione could mount a defence. All the power was available to the brunette, however, and time was flowing at a rate that suited her.

 

With a speed filled with strange confidence she pulled together the threads of magic, merging them with Harry’s to bolster its strength, just before the knife struck at the core of him. The attack was caught, held fast within the throbbing shield; it caught the blade, absorbed it, wrenched it from Bellatrix’s hand. The web pushed inwards, striking the dark spirit, restricting her movement and beginning to contract.

 

Hermione didn’t know how she was doing it but the thought was in her mind and the threads of magic responded, twisting and flexing to her command. Sweat stood out on her skin and she was aware of everyone else pushing their magic forwards, allowing it to flow through her. Molly and Arthur had stirred, once more actively lending their strength, Seamus was now sat up, Luna helping him to stand.

 

Bellatrix stood in the centre of the circle, a disquieting grin on her face. She tilted her head to the side, looking at Hermione through lidded eyes. “Aww,” she crooned, “such a cute display… do you feel powerful, Mudblood? Do you feel that you have the better of me… mummy?”

 

The word punched through Hermione’s consciousness, a stab of grief and pain that plunged to the heart of her. She gave a weak moan, feeling the strength of the weave shiver under her fingers.

 

“Don’t let her get to you!” Lucius’ voice was strained, filled with effort.

 

“We’re with you, love!” called Molly, her face flushed, unable to lift her head.

 

“Poor baby Granger… child killer… Mudblood… failure…” Bellatrix sang, her voice breaking through Hermione’s reserve, each word finding a chink in her armour easier than the one before. “I see your limits. Did you truly think I was struggling against your pathetic circle?” The threads enveloped her completely, pressing against her skin, causing it to dimple.

 

Another push would see the net contract fully, destroying the spirit and ending this nightmare. She gathered the strength, pulling more from her friends and pressed it against the spirit’s defences.

 

Bellatrix raised a hand. The threads shuddered and halted their inwards movement. Black teeth peeked through her split and bleeding lips as she grinned at Hermione... and extended her arm.

 

The weave buckled, sliding out from her body once more. Hermione felt like she was fighting against an iceberg, the slow but steady force driving her back. Sweat poured from her as she heard George drop to his knees, Angelina hanging onto him, panting for breath. Amber was on all fours, glaring at the web, pushing with everything she had. Astoria couldn't stand, couldn't lift her head, and Draco was shuddering under the strain, his face locked in a rictus of effort as he glared at his aunt.

 

There was no telling what would break first, the weave or them.

 

“Potter's precious Mudblood Granger,” Bellatrix hissed taking a step forwards. The jolt of dark energy opened up the cut on Luna's head, causing her to cry out. Seamus extended a hand to her, wanting to go to her but he held his ground. “Poor… desperate… killer mummy… So confident, so sure…” Bellatrix stood close to her now, looming above her and Hermione felt blood leaking from her nose at the strain. “You are nothing to me… you summoned me… but I have been busy and soon I will finish what I started and claim that beautiful little soul for my own.” Her smile was hideous, the stench of pure evil crushing Hermione to the floor. “Rose… will be mine, as I planned all along… and there is nothing you can do to stop it!”

 

A wisp of smoke suddenly shot through the weave, whipping around Bellatrix's head for a second. It distracted her and the pressure lifted. The smoke coiled around Hermione, draped across her shoulders, and poured every ounce of love and sweetness it had into her flagging spirits. “Rose…” Hermione gasped.

 

“NO!” yelled Bellatrix furiously. “She's mine!”

 

Rose's spirit merged with Hermione's magic, bolstered it, caused it to flare brighter, pushing Bellatrix back from her.

 

With a shriek of rage the spirit produced a new knife and lunged, pushing everything she had into the attack. Hermione watched it descend, unable to catch it. At the last moment a hand made of smoke grabbed the wrist and wrenched it away.

 

A tall man pooled into existence before her, gripping the dark spirit through the weave. “Not today, cousin,” he said with a wicked grin, his dark hair and handsome features lit with an inner fire.

 

“Sirius!” Harry cried, joy surging through him.

 

“Hey, Harry!” the Marauder said with a smile at his Godson. “Good to see you again. Hey, Malfoy!” Sirius turned to Lucius who glared at him with distaste. “Last time we met I'm sure I kicked your arse. Bygones?” He held out his free hand to the blond wizard.

 

With a growl of annoyance Lucius extended his arm, allowing his magic to merge with the spirit. The extra power surged through the web, drawing it tighter around Bellatrix.

 

“Not enough, dear cousin!” She cackled nastily, looking pointedly around the circle. “You still do not have the power to defeat me!”

 

“Maybe we can be of some assistance in that regard then!” With a flash of light and rush of energy Remus and Tonks burst into being.

 

“Wotcher, Harry!” the spirit of Tonks cried in greeting, her hand held in Remus’, their fingers interlocked.

 

The circle's spirits were bolstered, their magic fortified, but still Bellatrix laughed. “Nothing you do will destroy me!” she shrieked, but there was a note of panic that Hermione heard that gave her courage.

 

“She's weakening!” Draco shouted, on his feet once more, hanging onto Astoria to keep her upright. “Hold the circle!”

 

“I can't…” grated George, head bowed. “I'm fading here!”

 

“I will have that spirit, Mudblood, and feast on its power, if I have to wait for you to shit it out of your cunt and make you kill it all over again!!”

 

Hermione's knees buckled at the force of Bellatrix's raw aggression. Everyone in the circle redoubled their efforts, lending their strength to the weave, slowly drawing it tighter.

 

“You will not hurt my niece again, you vile bitch!”

 

Hermione stared in shock as Ginny marched into the cave, her fingers interlocked with Ron's and the siblings poured their magic forth in a torrent of anger and rage, flooding the circle with their strength. Ron gave the brunette a tight smile and nodded. She felt his love for her flow through the circle. Then another feeling flowed from the redhead at his side; sorrow, regret, and a desperate need for forgiveness.

 

“Ginny,” she whispered, holding her hand out to the young girl. She poured all her love and forgiveness into the weave, letting it wrap around her friend, filled with understanding.

 

Bellatrix screamed in impotent rage as the weave drew tighter around her, beginning to cut into her flesh. Parts of her were already being reduced to smoke and mist.

 

“One… last… push!” roared Harry, digging deep into himself to pull the last of the magic he had. He felt the others do the same and helped to thread it through the web.

 

With a scream of effort Hermione grabbed the threads, the magic and life force of nine couples, and knitted them together, forming a powerful barrier that choked off the dark spirit's magic, sealed off her energy. With the last of her strength she ripped the dark spirit asunder, hearing Bellatrix's wailing cry as the magic tore her apart.

 

A concussive blast of energy ripped through the circle, flinging all nine couples away.

 

Silence fell over the cave.


	7. Chapter 7

“She's coming around…”

 

“Hermione… come on, stay with me, love…

 

“Carefully, carefully, that arm's bad… Don't jostle it!”

 

Fuzzy faces greeted her as she managed to open her eyes. The lids were gummed together and seeing was an effort. There was a terrible throbbing pain in her left arm and she looked down. She saw blood, bone, her stomach heaved at the sight and she quickly looked away.

 

“It's okay, Hermione. It's over… you did it.” Harry.

 

“My arm…”

 

“Pretty badly broken. Amber's going to do what she can but looks like a trip to hospital for you, my dear!”

 

She tried again to open her eyes, finding her vision improved. She pointedly ignored her arm and Amber's form working on it, focussing instead on her friend. He was dressed once more but still looked tired, his eyes a little red and sunken. Her body was covered in her robe, but she had no idea who had dressed her while she had been unconscious. She smiled weakly at him, feeling more exhausted than she ever had before. “She’s gone?”

 

Harry nodded. “Remus has been telling everyone what's been happening… what happened with Rose. I think someone wants to talk to you.”

 

He stood aside to reveal Ginny. The redhead stared at her feet, cheeks blushing darkly as the brunette looked at her. “Hermione… I…”

 

The older witch held out her hand, taking hold of Ginny's and pulling her down towards her gently. “I'm sorry about what I said in the tent, Gin. I should never have said that about you.”

 

There was a small smile on the redhead’s lips as she shook her head. “You were right. I have been awful recently… well, for a long time, really. Anyway!” she said, shaking herself, “I came to apologise to  _ you _ ! Hermione…”

 

“Ginny, it's okay.” She squeezed her hand softly. “It's okay.” She felt tears trickle down her cheeks, seeing them mirrored in her friend's. The healing would take a long time, but Hermione felt sure that she could call the young woman friend again.

 

“Wotcher!” said the ghostly form of Tonks as she walked over to them. “Bit of a knock there, Granger! I did that to meself once… tripped over something at the top of a staircase and ended up at the bottom.”

 

“It was your own feet, Dora,” said Sirius, materialising nearby, his form as incorporeal as Tonks’. “You fell over your own feet… again.”

 

“What's happening?” Hermione asked, “Why are you fading?”

 

“It's time for us to go. We can't stay here without a body to bind ourselves to, and the magic that allowed us to pierce the veil and follow Bellatrix is dissipating.”

 

Harry stood then, looking at his Godfather, tears in his eyes. “It was really good to see you again, Sirius. I've missed you.”

 

“Me too, son,” the Marauder said, giving Harry the ghost of a hug, “me too. You take care of that girl of yours. She's a fine looking young lady. If I was ten years younger… and you know, alive…”

 

“I can hear you, you know!” Amber said, her attention not wavering from Hermione's arm for a moment.

 

“You were meant to, dear,” Sirius laughed.

 

Hermione looked around as the other spirits drifted away from them, moving about and saying their goodbyes. Every second made them seem fainter and she knew they would fade back beyond the veil soon.

 

Around the cave she saw the others; George, his arm around Angelina, was talking animatedly with Fred, the pair of them laughing and joking as they had in life. Molly and Arthur were nearby, their arms filled with both Ron and Ginny, the whole family together and united again. She had no doubt that the older brothers would soon come home and make their own peace with the two youngest Weasleys. The family had never been fractured for too long and it lifted her heart to see them bonding again.

 

Draco, Astoria, and Lucius were gathered around Narcissa. She was laid out on the cot that Hermione had awoken on seemingly an age ago. The witch felt her throat clench, seeing the tableau, feeling certain that the older witch breathed no more. Her departure from the circle had been violent and sudden, almost as if her life force had been torn from her. She hoped that she was wrong; despite her anger at how the Malfoys had used Theo she hadn't wanted any of them hurt.

 

She wondered at that for a moment. Before she had been angry at how they had tricked and used her, now she thought of how Theo had been used. She remembered his words, that he had fallen for her.

 

There was a flicker of movement close by and she felt her hair move as if a breeze had caught it.

 

Rose. The little spirit was tucked under her hair and a feeling of contentment and peace flowed from her.

 

“You can't stay here, little one,” she whispered. “You have to go back with the others, as much as I'd love you to stay.” There was a shimmer that she recognised as disagreement and she smiled. “Okay, just a little longer.”

 

“Sorry, were you talking to me then,” Amber asked, finally looking up from her work. She caught sight of Rose then and grinned. “Nevermind. I'll give you two some space. Don't move your arm!” Her face was stern, pointing at the brunette till she voiced her agreement.

 

Ron dropped down into a crouch at her side. “Hey,” he said softly.

 

She reached out her good arm, taking his hand and giving it a squeeze. “Hey. Thank you.”

 

“It was nothing, honestly.”

 

“You talked Ginny into coming up here. You convinced her somehow. That's not 'nothing’.”

 

The redhead shrugged. “I spent most of the afternoon under house arrest with only Ginny to talk to.” He leant forward with a wry twist to his mouth. “I think mum and dad still think they can ground us! But I talked to her, convinced her to at least come and see. Didn't think we'd do more than observe but…”

 

“I'm glad you were there.”

 

“When Ginny heard Bellatrix threaten Rose's spirit I think it all came home for her. She was already walking in before I caught up to her. Think she would have tried to take on Bellatrix by herself!”

 

“I don't doubt it!”

 

There was flicker of movement again, and Rose's spirit flowed out from under Hermione's hair and crossed over towards Ron. His jaw dropped, his throat clenching and tears appearing in his eyes. “Is this…?”

 

Hermione nodded, laughing with tears in her eyes as she heard the tinkling laugh and pulse of warmth that emanated from the little spirit. Rose curled around Ron's shoulders, resting there for a moment before sliding back under Hermione's hair. The pair sat in silence, just taking in the moment of peace.

 

“Hermione…” Ron said at last. “I wanted to talk… about us…”

 

“I…”

 

“No, let me get this out quickly before I lose where I'm going with it…”

 

He grimaced and glanced away for a moment. When he looked at her his eyes were so serious that Hermione felt her heart skip. She didn't know what was coming, but she feared that it would be something that could never be.

 

“Hermione… I know we've made up and everything. We were both wrong, and we were both right as well, but what happened tore us apart, and for that I can never be sorry enough… I had a thought that… that we might have a chance to try again.”

 

“Ron…”

 

“No, no, hear me out, please!”

 

She felt her eyes prickle with tears, not wanting to dash his hopes so soon after they had reconciled, but she didn't think…

 

“I don't think it would be a good idea,” he said in a rush. “As much as I'd love to be yours again, and for you to be mine… I think I would just love for you to be my friend. Like you were before all this, before Rose, before the War… After everything that's happened, I just want my best friend back!”

 

She stared at him for moment in surprise. This wonderful man who had given her such happiness during their marriage, who had then broken her heart… Throughout their whole relationship he had been stubborn, fiery tempered, prone to sulking… but he always managed to surprise her, usually in the best ways. She nodded, reaching out to embrace him. “I want that too, Ron, more than anything!”

 

“Stop moving that arm!” Amber yelled from across the cave.

 

The pair parted with a laugh, Hermione kissing Ron on the cheek. “Friends,” she whispered.

 

“Always.”

 

“Yay!” cried Luna, abruptly appearing besides them and hugging them both. “Much better!”

 

“My god, Luna!” Hermione stared at the witch, taking in the blood streaking her blonde hair and the barely healed cut above her temple. “Are you okay?”

 

“Oh this? Tis but a scratch!” she said dramatically, and skipped away again with a laugh.

 

“Girl never changes, does she?” Ron asked with a smile, helping her to stand.

 

“No, and I hope she never does.”

 

Ron blushed slightly after a moment. “Also… I wanted to apologise for something else too. I kinda beat your boyfriend up… and he might be pressing charges.”

 

“Ron! What did you do?”

 

“I heard what he did to you!” he cried plaintively. “What's a friend to do? I… um… sorta punched him in the face… twice.”

 

“Ron!”

 

“I might also have kicked him…”

 

“Ronald!”

 

Unperturbed he shrugged. “I saw red! Sorry… but kinda not sorry.”

 

“He's not my boyfriend, you know?”

 

“After what he did? I'm not surprised.”

 

She smiled at his bashful expression. “Thank you, Ron. Thank you for defending my honour, but you really shouldn't have. You could be in so much trouble! Do you know what the penalty is for assault?”

 

“No,” he grinned, “but I'm sure you do and you're going to tell me in that bossy voice of yours.”

 

Half offended she slapped his arm before linking it with hers, the pair of them walking over towards the Malfoys.

 

“Miss Granger,” Lucius drawled as they stopped nearby. “Not exactly a perfect evening, but… I suppose I must commend you. You handled the circle quite well, for a beginner.”

 

She felt Ron bristle and tugged on his arm till he subsided. Lucius merely raised an eyebrow at the young man for a moment.

 

“Mr Malfoy… Narcissa… is she…?”

 

“She is alive, Miss Granger.” He ignored Hermione's words of relief. “Yes, she will live but I fear that her magic has been severely damaged. It may be that it will never fully recover.”

 

Hermione gave a small, tight smile. “I am relieved to hear that your wife will live, Mr Malfoy. It means that I will not feel terrible if I tell you that I am disgusted at how you manipulated me, tricked me, and used me in your little scheme.” Hermione felt her anger flaring, remembering why she had wanted to speak to the arrogant man.

 

He merely raised one of those damned eyebrows of his and gave her a look, as if some performing monkey had started to play the guitar. “Indeed. You feel that perhaps our efforts to ensure you had a successful trip into the spirit world were… underhanded in some way?”

 

“You're bloody right I do! You set Theo Nott in my path, paying him to… to flirt with me!”

 

“I seem to remember that you were quite enjoying the experience at the time, Miss Granger.” She flushed heavily as he continued. “Should your feelings of self worth not have been awoken then your entire reason for being here at the festival would have been a waste of time. My wife and I do not like to expend precious magic on a fool's errand, so while you may think our methods to be distasteful, I find it hard to believe that you could refute their effectiveness.”

 

Hermione tried to find a way to continue shouting, to be angry still, but for some reason his explanation took the wind out of her sails a bit.

 

“As for your discovery of our little deception, well that too was planned. Tonight's ritual to draw and bind a dark spirit did not require peace and tranquility as last night's did. This one required fire and righteous anger… and that you had in spades after your altercation with Mr Nott outside my tent!”

 

“You… you knew I was there?”

 

“My dear Miss Granger, I did my best to  _ ensure _ that you heard us talking about it. It allowed us to get everyone in the right frame of mind. Mrs Scamander, Mr Weasley, Mr Potter, even my own son… All of you heard, all of you reacted as we thought you would. News spread to the others and it all, as they say, went swimmingly.”

 

He gave her a self congratulatory smirk that put her back up even more. “So the three of you planned this all out? Just to…”

 

“To get you what  _ you _ wanted, Miss Granger. You are welcome to say 'thank you’ whenever you like…”

 

“I have some words I would like to use…” She took a tight grip on her anger, feeling Ron gently stroking her arm with his thumb. The contact helped to settle her and although there was a frustrated feeling in her heart at being used she set her jaw and gave the aristocratic man a haughty look. “Thank you, Mr Malfoy. Please convey my thanks to Narcissa when she awakens, though I will certainly attend her personally, when she is recovered of course.”

 

Lucius bowed sardonically as Hermione walked away from him, dragging Ron with her. “One thing, Miss Granger,” he said, his voice pitched low so she was forced to stop and turn in order to hear him. “You mentioned that there were three conspirators in this matter. It would be remiss of me not to refute that logic before you left; Mr Nott was contracted to prepare you for last night’s ceremony, yes, but he was quite unaware that my wife and I wished you to discover the deception before tonight’s festivities. I would assure you that he was as surprised as you, and not best pleased.”

 

“Well, I’m sure that you saw him suitably compensated for his discomfort,” Hermione said sarcastically.

 

“Quite. His usual fee is rather steep, but then I believe that you get what you pay for, and Theo Nott is a contractor that can turn his hand to many different things. Earlier today I even offered him a bonus for actually bedding you… call it going above and beyond…”

 

“You arrogant bastard…” Ron took a step towards the tall man, but Hermione held him back.

 

“Thank you for your candour, Mr Malfoy,” Hermione said stiffly, “it helps clarify things very well.”

 

“The thing is,” Lucius continued, examining his nails in the firelight, “Mr Nott failed to collect his pay earlier. Left it on the table and stormed out after our chat. Seemed to find the offer offensive for some reason. He left me in no doubt that he would be looking to work for someone else from now on.”

 

“He… quit?” Hermione’s mind raced, her heart skipping in her chest.  _ If he left the money… _

 

“Yes, very out of the blue really. Puts me in a terrible situation of having to find another man who can do what Theo could… I must confess that this is the first time I have asked him to woo a lady. His usual forte are more legal matters, though he has sometimes been required to feign a friendship… I guess his heart wasn’t in it as much as I had hoped.” Lucius looked at Hermione out of the corner of his eyes. “Or perhaps… too much of his heart was.”

 

Hermione stared at him, her chest painful and her throat tight. “Thank you, Lucius,” she whispered.

 

The blond man nodded brusquely to her before turning away. Draco offered her a small smile which she returned, moving up to him and giving him a brief hug, kissing Astoria lightly on the cheek. She murmured her thanks to them and her wishes for Narcissa’s swift recovery, before moving towards the centre to say goodbye to the spirits.

 

They were little more than shadows now, though it was still possible to make out their features. Sirius and Remus stood together, chatting with Harry and Amber; Fred gave her a thumbs up; Tonks looked at her with a huge smile on her face, Luna stood nearby smiling widely too. Their enthusiasm seemed to be a little disconcerting to the brunette and she gave them both a questioning glance. “What’s up with you two?”

 

Tonks smiled even wider, seemingly trying to stifle a giggle. “Nothing!” she squeaked. Luna was looking everywhere but at Hermione, biting her lip and bouncing on her toes.

 

“Luna, you look like you’re going wet yourself…”

 

“No I don’t…” the blonde said with a smirk.

 

Remus glided up to the brunette at that point, rolling his eyes at the giggling pair. “Hermione, my dear. I’m afraid our time here is over and we must now return to our own land.”

 

“Thank you for all your help tonight, Remus, and for looking after Rose’s spirit.”

 

“It was a pleasure, and good luck…” He drifted away from her, turning to all of the occupants. “Farewell friends! What we did tonight has helped remove a great evil from the world, before it had chance to be reborn. I have no doubt that the dark entity would have become a terrible force for evil should that have happened. Now though… this world may be safe for a while longer. Merry meet, merry part. Blessed be.”

 

Everyone repeated the refrain and Hermione felt a surge of warmth and love flow through her, sinking in through her skin, as the spirits faded from sight. Her last sight of them was of Tonks clapping, dancing from foot to foot, and then holding out her hand to Luna. The blonde girl, still beaming at Hermione, reached out and the pair of them mimed tickling each other’s palm.

 

Silence fell over the cave once more.

 

Moments later Amber gave orders to Lucius and Draco, telling them to bear Narcissa carefully out of the cave. Before she left she glared good naturedly at Hermione, repeating her admonishment to be careful of her arm, that she would be back soon to escort her to St Mungo’s for treatment.

 

Hermione smiled and nodded, promising to be good, before turning her gaze to Luna once more. “What is going on with…?”

 

She cut off with a startled grunt as the woman bounded across the cave, captured her face, and kissed her hard on the mouth. Before she could do much more than stare at her friend the quirky witch pulled away, gave her a small smile and cupped the brunette’s cheek, stroking it gently with her thumb. Without a word she skipped across the cave, grabbed Seamus’ hand and pulled him away. He stumbled a few steps, trying to keep up with her before giving a shrug and muttering, “Ah feck it…” He joined Luna in skipping, exaggeratedly swinging his free arm with a wide smile on his face, much to Luna’s delight.

 

Hermione watched them both disappear into the night, shaking her head and laughing at Ron’s bemused expression. “I will never understand that woman,” he muttered.

 

“I don’t think any of us ever will, not fully. And that’s fine by me.” Hermione grinned. “She’s just… Luna!”

 

After a moment she swore sadly. Ron looked at with concern. “What's wrong.”

 

“We didn't get to say goodbye to Rose! I didn't even feel the going of her.”

 

\---------------------------------------------------

 

Despite Amber's strict orders, Hermione left the cave after a while and walked back towards the festival grounds. The walk was quiet and she insisted on going alone. She wanted to think about some things, she had told Ron.

 

In truth she knew exactly where she was going and it wasn't long till her feet guided her to Theo's tent.

 

The fire was cold, simply ashes within the circle of stones, and he was nowhere to be seen. She stared down at the empty space where his tent should be, eventually sinking down to sit in front of the cold fire, staring into the ashes much as he had not so long ago. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes as she tried to sort out her emotions.

 

Amber and Harry found her there a while later, quietly sitting with her. After a moment Amber pulled the brunette to her, letting her rest her head on the medi-witch’s shoulder. They sat that way for some time, Hermione feeling exhausted and drained.

 

Eventually she was taken to St Mungo’s where her arm was worked on by a very strict Healer, with definite ideas of what patients could and could not do; getting up from their bed to prowl the corridors in search of random men was apparently taboo! Neither would she give Hermione any information about any other patients currently being treated. The witch was left to stew and fume until the following day when she was pronounced well enough to leave, at which point she went straight to the front desk and asked if Mr Nott was still a patient and under treatment.

 

She was informed that they were unable to provide her with any patient’s details without the authority of said patient, unless she happened to be operating under the authority of the Auror Department. The receptionist had looked over her half-moon spectacles at her then, her expression making it clear that she did not believe that to be the case. The brunette left soon afterwards, stiffly thanking the witch for her time.

 

She was quiet in the back of Ron’s car on the way home, just listening to him talk about his day and the latest Chudley Cannons scores. She could tell that he was struggling to fill the silence and distract her from her funk, but she didn’t really want to talk so it wasn’t working and he eventually lapsed into silence. When he pulled up at her house she gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and went inside.

 

She sat on her sofa, staring blankly at the fireplace, her arm wrapped in bandages that would change colour when they were ready to be removed.

 

Why did she feel the need to find him, anyway? Could he really be forgiven for what he had done? She let her head loll back and stared at the ceiling, searching for answers in the fine cracks in the paintwork.


	8. Chapter 8

“I can’t keep doin' dis, Luna! It’s not right an' it’s doing me head in, goin’ round an' round in circles...”

 

Seamus paced about his small bedroom, naked in the moonlight, and Luna watched him with a small smile on her lips. It had been a fortnight since the Samhain festival and they had met this way more than once. She stretched languorously, ensuring that the Irishman saw every inch of her naked body as she turned to lay on her stomach, hands under her chin and slowly sliding her body backwards, rising up on her knees and presenting her arse to him. The light of the moon illuminated her pale skin so that it shone.

 

“Ah, come on, gal!” he cried, eyes devouring the sight, his groin aching with need already, despite their recent coupling.

 

Extending her arms out in front of her Luna dropped her head to the mattress with a drawn out moan, letting her legs slide slowly apart.

 

“Fuck sake, Luna! Tha’s not fair!”

 

“I don’t think it’s fair that you’re stood all the way over there…” Her voice was low, husky and she slipped a hand up one thigh, ghosting across her swollen lips, before slipping one long digit inside her slick folds. “Not when you could be all the way in here…” She gave a delicate shudder as she stroked her clit, her finger slick with juices.

 

Seamus stared, silenced by the erotic display. He could feel himself becoming hard again already and he ached to just plunge into her. He clenched his fists, trying to focus on the scratch of his nails rather than the temptress softly cooing and moaning. Her finger disappeared inside herself once more, before slipping out and beckoning him closer.

 

“Perception is a tricky thing…” she said, dreamily, “it’s only really accurate from your own point of view.”

 

Seamus stepped forward despite himself, dropping to his knees and sliding his hands up the outside of her thighs. “Damn it, witch, yer not playin fair! Blatherin' ‘bout perception like it changes tings, but I can’t resist yer...”

 

Luna sighed as his mouth enveloped her finger, sucking it clean. Her breath drew in sharply as his warm tongue stroked softly over her clit, along the the full length of her and didn’t stop till it reached the top of her arse cheeks. She moaned even more as it passed over her sensitive anus, loving the difference in the sensation. “Nothing needs to be changed, Seamus,” she sighed as his hands massaged her arse, his tongue beginning another long, slow climb. “Things are fine the way they are, if you find yourself able to perceive things as I do.” She gave another gasp of pleasure and smiled. “More than fine.”

 

Seamus closed his eyes, wanting to stop, morally _needing_ to stop, but this witch was under his skin. She was so sensual, so mysterious. She was like a drug that had grabbed him by the throat and refused to let go. He had been so lifeless for years since his wife had been killed, had never thought that he would feel alive ever again. This witch though… she had burst into his life at random times over the last couple of years, always with a smile, always with a cheeky glance his way. Her strange ways had never scared him off, her talk of strange creatures that no one else had heard of had never made him think less of her. He had seen some unusual creatures in his time; just because he had never seen a trixie pinkle blob or whatever, didn’t mean the creature didn’t exist!

 

Luna moaned again, pushing herself towards him, needing his touch.

 

With a frustrated shake of his head he released her, standing and covering his eyes. He could control himself much better when he couldn't see her. “I can't do dis, lass! What would Rolf say if he could see yer now? How d’ya tink he would feel?”

 

Luna pouted over her shoulder at him, shifting on the bed to face him, shuffling closer. He realised their relative positions when her deft fingers curled around his shaft, eliciting a grunt filled with pleasure and frustration. “I do not think we should talk of Rolf when we are like this, Seamus.” Her breath ghosted over his cock and he bit his lip, desperately trying not to look, knowing what she was doing. His balls ached as she gently ran her tongue up the underside, flicking across the sensitive peak.

 

“Luna… I… oh Merlin, I wanna tell yer ter stop…”

 

“Then why don't you?” she whispered, her lips pressed against him, her tongue gently circling on the glans.

 

“Fuck… Luna, dis is wrong!”

 

“Sorry. Would you prefer this, instead?” He felt her lips part and a warm heat slid down his shaft, reaching almost to the base. He could feel the pressure of her throat as she took him deep inside her mouth, and slid slowly back up again. There was a quiet pop as Seamus’ cock slipped out and she hummed appreciatively. He tried to speak but she slid forward again, taking him deeper this time. His fingers curled through her hair as she rose up once more, before sinking down again. The slow, lazy motion sending waves of pleasure through the young man's body. She placed her hands on his backside, sucking lightly on the tip, gazing up at him with those large blue eyes that seemed to stare into his soul.

 

“I can't resist yer,” he whispered, “but this can't keep happenin’. What if yer man finds out? I don't feel right ‘bout this.”

 

“I'm sure Rolf will find out at some point, Seamus, though I do not think he will be too concerned.”

 

“Won't be concerned? Are yer cracked, woman?” Seamus pulled away from her, desperately ignoring her beautiful pout and imploring eyes. “He'll be feckin’ livid if he's any sorta man!”

 

“No,” she said with a small smile, laying back on the bed and gently stroking her hands across her breasts. “He'll be jealous, I'm sure, but jealousy is not a new creature to him, so he will focus on new discoveries. I do wish I had been able to convince him to take my idea of an expedition to Sweden seriously, though.”

 

Seamus couldn't formulate a sensible response to this. In the end he settled for just looking at her, part of him just enjoying the sight of the erotic witch pleasuring herself.

 

“Sweden is where the Snorkack is, I'm sure of it, but Rolf never believed. I don't think he ever believed in anything as I did. Our relationship was very frustrating in that regard…”

 

“Wait!” Seamus grabbed onto one thing in this… one fragment of information in the jumble of Luna's words. He grabbed it and hung onto it like a drowning man with a piece of driftwood. “Ya said ‘believed’... 'was'... past tense! Luna…” He pointed at her, the urgency in his voice making her look up and smile at him with lidded eyes.

 

“Yes?” she asked sweetly, a note of expectation and amusement in her voice.

 

“Straight answer! Are yer divorced?”

 

“About three years ago, yes,” she said dreamily.

 

Seamus gaped openly at her, his thoughts a mess of disparate words and sounds but nothing he could formulate into a coherent sentence.

 

“Oh dear,” she said with a small laugh. “Looks like a wrackspurt got in again.”

 

“Why the feck didn't yer say somethin’ sooner, yer daft woman!?” he yelled then.

 

She shrugged. “No one asked.”

 

“I've been killin’ meself wi' guilt… and you've been single… dis whole feckin’ time!?” Seamus clapped his hands to his forehead, disbelief in his eyes. “I don't believe dis!”

 

“You'll wake Rodney,” she admonished lightly, standing and wrapping her arms around him. She pressed herself into him and he hugged her close still completely blown away.

 

They stood that way for a moment, while the Irishman gathered his thoughts. Eventually he realised something. “When ya say 'no one asked’... Surely someone asked about yer man, Rolf, right? Hermione must have… yer talk ‘bout what's going on in yer life with yer friends, don’t yer?”

 

She shrugged. “They ask how Rolf is and I tell them where in the world I know him to be. I still get all the same journals, so I read about his studies. They're fascinating by the way. I think he is close to finding the nesting site of the Poggleshuck, though that is not the creature he seeks…” She smiled up at him. “But no one really asks about my relationship with him. I think they find my answers too hard to follow so they've given up. You're the only one that's persevered.” She snuggled closer to him.

 

“Well, yer made it murder for me, love.”

 

“But it meant enough to you to work it out. Which is something I love about you.” She reached up and cupped his cheek, drawing his mouth to hers and kissing him softly. “You're an honourable man, Seamus. I think you would have told Rolf about us eventually, no matter the consequence.”

 

“So why make such a song an dance of it… why put me through al' dat? Lass, I nearly walked cos it were twistin' me up inside!”

 

“‘The heart has it's reasons of which reason knows nothing,’” she said with a small smile. “A Muggle said that and I like it.”

 

“Yer a beautiful wee mystery aren't ya, mo stór beag?”

 

She giggled happily at the word. “I like being your little mystery… your little treasure. Do you feel better about us now? Are you terribly upset with me?” She looked up at him with a small, coquettish smile, but it was belied by the mirth dancing in her eyes.

 

“Well…” he said thoughtfully. “I'm gonna have ter show yer me answer.”

 

He plucked her from the ground and carried her swiftly to the bed, loving the sound her laugh, loving the feel of her mouth on his, her limbs wrapping him tightly in their embrace. Seamus would happily spend many years making this little mystery his, and his alone.

 

\---------------------------------------------------

 

“Whassat?” Draco asked, pointing at Theo's arm with a wobbly finger. The other man had just rolled the sleeves of his shirt up with exaggerated care.

 

“New tattoo,” the dark haired man replied, patting his forearm with his right hand. “Jus' the background stuff… Rest of it be done soon… gonna be good.”

 

“You shound pished… pussed… fuck it, you're drunk!”

 

“Course I'm drunk! We've been drinking for…” Theo raised his eyes and stared around the bar, looking myopically for a clock. “For a while now.” His head drooped, forehead on the wet and disturbingly sticky table.

 

“'bout six hours…” Draco said with a burp. “Shit… 'scuse me…” The music in the club was loud and was hurting Draco's ears. This was their first stop in the Muggle world after a trip around several wizarding pubs; Theo’s choice this time. He had no idea why his friend liked this shit; it was too angry, too noisy… just generally fucking awful. “What is this crap?” he shouted. “Sounds like someone dropping a bunch of instruments down a flight of stairs, while some guy growls down a tube!”

 

Theo raised his head, listening for a moment to identify the song. “Cannibal Corpse… s’good song this one…”

 

“It's really not!” his friend said with a sour twist to his lips.

 

“Tis…” Theo countered, his face on the table again. “'Hammer Smashed Face’… good…” He lifted a fist, his pinky and index finger raised.

 

Draco shook his head, looking around in disgust at the Muggles that seemed to be having a massive fight on the dance floor. He didn’t understand it… it looked like they were all screaming and shouting, bouncing into one another, but many of them were smiling. Muggles were weird… this ‘music’ was weird… He recoiled in horror from Theo, nearly falling off his chair, as the dark haired man suddenly reared up, lifting both hands above his head and began growling along with the song at the top of his lungs.

 

“ _Eyes bulging, from their sockets, with every swing, of my mallet! I smash your fucking head in, until brains seep in, through the cracks, blood does leak! Distorted beauty! Catastrophe! Steaming slop, splattered all over meeeeeeee!!_ ” He slumped back into his chair with a grin, head lolling back, panting for breath.

 

The blond wizard grimaced. “How delightful... That does remind me, though,” he said, prodding his friend in the arm, “have you spoken to her yet?”

 

Theo looked at Draco's grinning face with a confused look. “Why the fuck does Hammer Smashed Face remind you to ask me about Hermione?”

 

“Cos it's what you looked like shortly after you saw her last… you know, when Weaselby beat you up?”

 

“Har de fucking har! I tol’ you... it was a sucker punch! Don't make me feel bad for dropping the charges against the ginger twat!”

 

“You know why you did… you wouldn't go back on it now, even if he spat in your face.”

 

Theo didn't respond, merely glaring into the middle distance.

 

“Have you talked to her yet? It's been a fortnight… You're avoiding her!”

 

“Not avoiding. Don't deserve to see her.”

 

“Oh, for fuck sake… don't go all maudlin on me!”

 

“S’not maudlin, Draco… it’s true! I shoulda told her earlier… told her I really, really like her… like, like-like her… a lot!”

 

“S’called ‘love’, you dick! It’s alright, you can say it…”

 

“Alright,” Theo said, scowling at the pair of blond wizards sitting opposite him until he worked out which one was real. “Alright, I think I’m in love! Happy now?”

 

“I’m flattered, Theo, truly… but I’m married.” He laughed as Theo stuck two fingers up at him.”Don’t fucking tell _me_ , you idiot! Tell _her_!”

 

“How can you fall in love with someone after a day together? It’s ridiculous!”

 

“Okay, I’ll give you that one… maybe it’s not love yet. Possibly more lust than anything, but you like her pershon...purshinal… who she is inside, right? Want to get to know her better? Well, there you go,” Draco declared as Theo nodded, “that’s a damn good start! And you’ve seen each other naked already… bumped uglies and everything…”

“Real mature,” Theo growled as Draco smirked.

 

“Look, what I’m saying is… sober up, get a shower, tell her you’re sorry. She’s a decent sort! She might only slap you once for leaving it this long.”

 

\---------------------------------------------------

 

She had never been the sort to dwell on her misfortunes. Normally she was a take charge sort of woman, seeing the problem, working out a logical solution, and then dealing with it.

 

She stared at the letter in front of her again, reading it out loud to her companion in the privacy of Harry’s sparklingly clean ensuite bathroom. She sat, her back against the tiled wall, the toilet at her side. The woman with her lay in the bath, head on the base, legs draping over the foot. The owl that had delivered it to Harry's house had caused a stir, coming as it was during Harry's speech to thank everyone for coming to his and Amber's engagement party. When Hermione had taken and read the letter she had given a strange grunt, somewhere between a sob and a laugh, grabbed Luna's hand, and dragged her upstairs to the ensuite. They had been there for an hour now.

 

“That’s the fourth time you’ve read that letter to me since we’ve been in here,” said Luna with small sigh, “and the fifteenth that you have read it to yourself. Is there something missing from it that you are looking for?”

 

Hermione glared at the side of the bath, unable to see her face and so settled for scowling at Luna’s knees. After a moment the quirky witch reached up, scratched her leg and murmured, “Stop frowning at me.”

 

“What am I going to do? This was not how I envisaged it!”

 

“Plans are like the wind; they change. Sometimes they change to bring the better weather.”

 

“It's nearly December, Luna. In England. I don't think a change in the wind will bring the sunshine back!”

 

“Are you girls okay in there?” Amber called from the other side of the door. “Got room for a little one?”

 

Luna's hands appeared on the side of the bath and she lifted her head. “Do you have food with you? Hermione’s kidnapped me and is holding me prisoner!”

 

The brunette tutted. “Don't exaggerate, Luna! _Alohomora!”_ She flicked her wand at the door, unlocking it and Amber let herself in, locking the door behind her.

 

“Are you okay?” she asked, settling on the edge of the bath.

 

Hermione nodded, reading the letter again. “I’m sorry, Amber, I didn't mean to run off…”

 

“Dragging one of the other guests away from her boyfriend and the buffet at the same time…” murmured Luna.

 

Hermione scowled again, but her expression quickly became plaintive. “It's just… it's so sudden…”

 

“She's distressed that there were consequences,” Luna whispered loudly.

 

“It's not the consequences, Luna. It's the situation! I don't know if I want this…”

 

Luna smiled up at the ceiling, only Amber seeing the content look on her face. “You want it, but you're not sure if you want to want it in the manner in which it has been presented to you.”

 

“Hermione,” Amber said slowly, “what is it that you want, if you had the chance to pick and choose? This…” She indicated the letter. “This is happening and I'm sure you want that.”

 

“More than anything,” the brunette whispered.

 

“Do you want what could come with it?”

 

“I don't know… It's just… can I forgive what he did?”

 

“Yes,” Luna said simply, sitting up and hopping out of the bath.

 

“You forgive too easily.”

 

“Maybe you forgive too hard.” The blonde witch sat in front of her friend, fixing her with her big blue eyes. “That which seems unforgivable is entirely dependent on perspective. How Rose died seemed unforgivable for some, yet others found peace with it. Where will you find your peace?”

 

Hermione's head bumped against the tiles, staring at the letter from St Mungo's again.

 

“Besides…” Luna said with a shrug, “doesn’t he at least have the right to know?”

 

\---------------------------------------------------

 

Draco made his way between the tables in the pub, balancing the two small glasses carefully, one eye on avoiding the early morning meetings of witches and wizards, the other on the drinks to avoid spillage. It was surprisingly busy considering it was early and the wind was howling outside. The weather had been particularly inclement so far for some reason.

 

As he reached the raised wooden decking towards the far side he saw the man he sought. He was sat, head in his hands, his rain jacket slung over the back of his chair, and his wand and a pint of butterbeer sat in front of him. The answers to all of life’s mysteries seemed to be in the foam on top of the drink and Theo was absorbing it all. It had been another two weeks and he still hadn't spoken to her, so not all the answers were there, clearly! The blond wizard smirked as he noticed that Theo's tattoo was finished now, standing clearly on his left forearm: it was an otter, decorated in bright blue colours.

 

“Subtle,” he said with a good natured sneer, dropping into the chair opposite. He plonked one of the shot glasses in front of his friend, tapping it with his own and downing it.

 

Theo gave a surprised start, a half smile, half grimace on his face. “Good morning, Draco... Tough hour at work? It’s… what? Half ten?”

 

“Congratulations… she’s keeping it,” the blond wizard coughed out, the whiskey catching him wrong. “As if there was any doubt, really. Yuck… never drink firewhiskey while you can still taste the toothpaste!”

 

“Not normally a problem for me… but thanks. What do you mean, ‘she’s keeping it’?” Theo unconsciously rubbed the new tattoo, making the small creature do somersaults and scatter blue sparks across his skin. “Who’s keeping what?”

 

Draco considered the glass held in his hand smacking his lips with distaste. “You know, Blishen’s is normally pretty good… maybe this was a bottle of the cinnamon one? Don’t like cinnamon…”

 

“Keeping what, Draco?” Theo growled, his heart jumping with… what was it? Fear? Hope? He glared at his friend.

 

“You’re not a dumb guy normally, Nott. It’s nearly the end of November now… I’m sure if you do some quick math you’ll be able to work out…” He hadn’t finished his sentence before the table rocked, spilling the remaining shot onto the surface, the chair flying backwards and clattering to the floor, as Theo leapt up and ran. The man was weaving around the tables towards the exit when Draco shouted, “NOTT!” and threw his friend’s wand, carelessly left on the table, towards him.

 

The dark haired man snatched it out of the air with the assurance of a Chaser, hit the door running, and Disapparated.

 

“About fucking time,” muttered Draco, downing Theo's butterbeer.

 

\---------------------------------------------------

 

When the door opened time seemed to freeze.

 

Her hair was as beautiful and wild as he remembered it, untamable but so soft under his hands. Her eyes saw him and he read everything he needed to know in their warm, brown gaze. They were filled with a whole world of information; he had lied to her, made her believe that their meeting was merely a twist of fate, a chance flip of the cards. And he had ended up being the Joker. He had woken her and made her feel alive again, helped her realise that she deserved a life and to love once more, that she could feel more than pain. She was carrying his child and she was going to keep the baby, no matter what, knowing that this was the little spirit that only wanted to be with her again. She would make no demands of him, understanding that he had not asked for this, had not expected it. At the same time he would be welcome in the child's life if he wished to be there, if he was willing to step up, if only for the baby. She knew that he had fallen for her, and if the tattoo on his arm was any indication, fallen hard. She also understood that it could be merely a trophy, and she accepted that too. She appreciated that he had come here in a hurry when he had been told the news, and that his delay in the preceding weeks was not down to indifference, but nerves and uncertainty. It had hurt her, the not knowing, but she understood all the same. She had hope for what his arrival on her doorstep meant, and she let him know that it was not being rejected out of hand.

 

Her eyes said all this in that brief eternity as the door swung open, and Theo understood it all. She was vulnerable, but still so strong, and it made his heart ache.

 

She blushed prettily and looked at the floor for a moment. A small smile graced her lips as the otter did somersaults under his nervous fingers and she tilted her head slightly, asking him every question imaginable with her gaze.

 

Theo returned the smile, and the action brightened the day around them, peeling back the dark clouds of pain and hurt that concealed the sun. It told her everything she needed and wanted to hear.

 

“Would you like to come in?” she whispered.

 

“I'd like that very much.”

 

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this tale as much as I enjoyed writing it. Any and all comments will be gratefully received; positive, negative, whatever.
> 
> Hope you have a pleasant Samhain and Halloween.  
> Blessed be!
> 
> \---------------------------------------------
> 
> FYI, the drunken chat between Theo and Draco in the club is an almost accurate recreation of a conversation I once had with a friend who didn't like metal... except I was singing a Lamb of God song, and he *did* fall off his chair... ;)
> 
> **Songs/lyrics referenced within this tale:
> 
> Fade to Black - Metallica  
> Be Still and Know - Machine Head  
> Darkness Within (acoustic) - Machine Head  
> Imperium - Machine Head  
> Hammer Smashed Face - Cannibal Corpse
> 
> Any and all lyrics reproduced in the preceding story are the property of the original creators and all credits go to the artists. No copyright infringement intended.


End file.
